


Apostate in Plain Sight

by Alistairs_Queen



Series: Mana Ladies [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 317,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alistairs_Queen/pseuds/Alistairs_Queen
Summary: Plucky and sarcastic Marian Hawke is thrown into a life she never asked for, but was born for.





	1. Exodus

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke is my absolute favorite PC and I really enjoyed adding a layer of complexity to her sarcasm.

Marian's hair clung to her forehead with sweat and blood. Her heart raced as she ran, fear driving her forward. She was never one to let her fear get the best of her, but her family was on the line. The staff she carried, compacted by magic to resemble a mace banged painfully against her thigh every other step. Why had she ever let her father teach her that damned spell? Bethany wore her staff proudly, hitched to her back, although Marian had never seen her sister wield it before this morning. When a shout rose behind her, Marian dug in her heels and spun to see her mother had dropped to her knees, panting. A group of Darkspawn were right on her heels. Bethany gave a grunt of effort and a wall of fire blazed up from the ground, blocking the Darkspawn from getting to them. A few brazenly walked through the flames, snarling as her mother backed away on her rear like a crab. Marian's staff was in her hands, sliding to full length as she poured mana into it. She used the butt end to smack one of the flaming Darkspawn back to the other side of the wall and her brother Carver jumped into the fray, literally, bringing his two handed broadsword down and slicing clear through the second Darkspawn. Marian ran to her mother, helping her back to her feet.

"I think that's all of them," Carver said, his chest heaving. He was sweating as much as Marian. They all were.

"For the moment," Bethany agreed in her soft voice, her brown eyes darting back and forth in fear. The only sibling of the three of them that hadn't gotten father's striking blue eyes. She still shared their jet black hair, though she wore it in a much more feminine style than Marian herself who kept her hair short off her neck with a splash of unruly bangs that stuck down in her face.

She pushed those bangs back out of her eyes as her mother lamented and the family Mabari moved to lick the sweat from her palms and whimper. "Maker save us, we've lost it all. Everything your father and I built..." She was near tears.

Marian shrugged, feeling the overwhelming need to be the backbone of the family. She was the eldest. When father had died three years ago, he had made her promise to watch out for the others. "At least we're alive. That's no small feat."

"Yes. You're right," her mother agreed, her head still hung in despair.

"We should have run sooner! Why did we wait so long?" Bethany asked, her eyes falling accusingly on her twin.

"Why are you looking at me?" Carver yelled in his own defense. "I've been running since Ostagar!" Her brother had been at the battle when the king fell. He'd seen the destruction first hand. He had gotten out before the Darkspawn had gotten to him.

"Not to interrupt," Marian said, doing just that as she glanced at the dwindling fire wall. "but the Blight's not going to wait while we stand here pointing fingers."

"Please! Listen to your sister," her mother urged, making a shooing gesture at the twins.

Marian shrunk her staff and hitched it to her belt. There was going to be a bruise there later. If she survived to worry about such things. "Then let's go," Carver said, glaring at Marian. "Lead on."

She sighed and began to jog forward, slowing the pace a bit so her mother could keep up. They hadn't made it twenty yards when the Darkspawn swarmed on them again. Marian called her magic, ignoring her staff and channeling through her palms. The lightning came easily, as it always did. Father had chuckled at her when she was a child saying that with her fiery personality she should have been a red head. She could cast spells from many of the schools of magic, but the easiest for her was fire and lightning. Destruction was one of her strong suits. As the bolts arched all around, Carver swung his giant blade in a circle, raising the dirt around him to shower her as she cast. "Watch how close you swing that thing, brother. You might lob off something I need later."

He grunted as three of the Darkspawn surrounding him fell down in six pieces. "It's a shame I can't lob off your tongue."

She stuck the object of his ire out at him and pressed her hands together, curling her fingers around the ball of fire as it grew in her palms. Then she thrust her hands before her and hurled the ball at a cluster of Darkspawn as they ran at Bethany, brandishing their chipped and rusted swords. When they stumbled backwards, Bethany spun, dragging her staff around with her movement then the ground before her punched upwards in giant spikes of ice, spearing the Darkspawn. When the last creature fell, Marian reigned in her magic, checked on the others and began forward again. Bethany stopped her. "Wait! Where are we going?"

She was exhausted. Marian could tell in how heavily she was leaning on her staff and the breathiness in her voice. "Away from the Darkspawn. Where else?" Carver snapped.

Bethany's eyes shot daggers at him. "And then where? We can't just wander aimlessly!"

"So long as we wander aimlessly away from the horde, I'm happy," Marian quipped, taking a moment to rest, herself.

"We can go to Kirkwall," their mother suggested, leaning on the dog in her own attempt to rest her legs.

Marian snorted, "Well, that wouldn't be my _first_ choice." Their family was from Kirkwall originally. Their father had escaped the Circle there and their mother had run away with him to build their life in Ferelden. It was a notoriously terrible place for mages.

"There's a _lot_ of templars in Kirkwall, mother," Bethany said worriedly.

"I know that," she argued. "But we still have family there... and an estate."

Bethany sighed heavily. "Then we need to get to Gwaren and take ship."

"If we survive that long," Carver added. "I'll just be happy to get out of here." He turned and shuffled forward, leaving them no choice but to follow.

The sounds of fighting up ahead made Marian wary and she took her staff from her belt, but left it compact, at least for the moment. A slew of Darkspawn were blocking the road, fighting two people. One was a templar in full plate, the second, a female in simple studded leaters. They both fought with sword and shield. Marian threw herself into the fray, careful to use nothing but physical magic to add kick to her swings with her staff which she still disguised as a mace. Bethany was not as subtle. She threw chunks of ice from her staff, freezing several of the Darkspawn which Marian and Carver both ran up to and shattered with brute force. The templar let out a cry of pain as one of the Darkspawn flanked him and sliced open his back with it's sword. He dropped to the ground, his shield falling from his arm as he managed to back up and around the threatening Darkspawn. Just as it raised it's sword to finish him, the woman came like a comet and slammed into the creature, tackling it to the ground. She reached for her abandoned sword after punching the Darkspawn several times in it's hideous face and sliced the Darkspawn's head from it's shoulders as she stradled it to the ground. "You will not have him!" she shouted angrily. Then she stood and picked up the templar's shield, backing up to protect him and help him to his feet. "They will not have you," she said much more gently. "Not while I breathe."

As the remaining Darkspawn descended on the vulnerable couple, Marian charged in and began slamming her staff head into their brains. Black ichor sprayed in all directions and she was careful to keep her mouth shut, having heard that Darkspawn blood was poison. True or not, she was not taking chances. She, her siblings and the red headed warrior woman finished off the group. Immediately after the final one died, the templar cast accusing eyes on Bethany. He was back on his knees and the woman approached him, and scolded as he tried to stand before she looked at the wound on his back. "Stop squirming, Wesley. You'll make it worse." Her voice was tender now and her imposing figure on the battlefield broke down as she turned into someone who cared about him deeply.

"Apostate," he growled getting to his feet. "Keep your distance."

"Well the Maker has a sense of humor," Bethany said crossing her arms. "Darkspawn, and now a templar. I thought they all abandoned Lothering."

"The 'spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown. The Order dictates..." the templar growled, wavering on his feet.

"Wesley," the red head said with a sigh and hung her head.

The templar ignored her and stepped toward Bethany. "The Order dictates..."

Marian put herself between him and her sister, a frown gracing her usually passive face. She was ready to defend her sister. "Dear, they saved us," the red head said softly. "The Maker understands."

After a few tense moments where Marian and the templar sized each other up, he nodded grudgingly. "Of course."

The woman patted his shoulder as he rejoined her. "I am Aveline Vallen. This is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we're safe from the horde."

"The wrath of the templars is terrible, indeed," Marian mocked, unable to keep the taunt from her lips.

"Moreso their wives," the templar said, his cheeks reddening as he glanced at Aveline. "but as long as there is a greater danger, you and I have an accord."

"Thank you Wesley," Avenline said with a smile before turning her attention to Marian who was still standing at the head of her group. "For now, we move with you. North is cut off. We barely escaped the main body of the horde."

"Then we're trapped!" Carver groaned as their mother covered her face in exhausted frustration. "The Wilds are to the south! That's no way out!"

Their dog whimpered at his tone and bumped into Marian's leg. The dog had always favored her in spite of being purchased for Carver for his birthday a few years ago, just before Father had died. A fact that Carver lumped in with the rest of his jealousy of his sister.

"If the options are south or die, I'll take my chances with south," Marian said, moving before he could object again.

Soon the others fell in behind her, the dog trotting at her heels. Carver had given the dog a name, but it had eventually been discovered that he would answer to nothing but the name Marian had secretly given him. Ser Alfred Drooslbury von Wigglebottom. Alfie for short. It had been a joke at the time, but soon Alfie would answer to nothing else. It was a point of contention for Carver who still attempted to call the dog Butcher.

It was nearly a constant battle from point A to point B as the Wilds began to close in around them.The ground went from a narrow dirt path to an undetectable squishy bog beneath Marian's boots. The slurp of the mud with each step soon had her thighs burning with the effort to simply put one foot in front of the other. The Wilds teemed with life. Wolves, bugs, and the more than occassional Darkspawn as they pushed further south, tying to find a way out and around to the east and out of the foggy woods.

A short distance to her left, Marian could make out the remains of a broken down tower with vines and vegetation growing up it's sides. Up a hill to her right, however was a flat plateau where she thought to get a better look at their surroundings from the semi-high ground in spite of the lovely cliffside to the left beyond the crumbling tower ruins. As she crested over the lip of the plateau, the woman, Aveline not far off her heels, paused and gently grabbed Marian's elbow. When she stopped moving, she felt the shaking of the ground beneath her feet.

The next few moments happened so quickly that Marian could scarcely believe her eyes. From the other side of the plateau which she was standing now, dead center in, a gigantic Darkspawn barrelled up with a deafening roar. It was easily 12 feet tall with forearms the size of her entire body. It's purplish-gray skin was adorned with bits of makeshift metal that vageuly resembled armor. It's bottom was covered by a slip of coth barely serving for modesty, if Darkspawn cared for that sort of thing. Marian had a split second to wonder what in the Maker's name something that large might eat before she was forced to throw herself out if it's path. She landed hard on her front, scrambling to her feet as she felt the wind from it's charge blow past her, it's curved horns down like an angry bull. The rest of her party had scattered and the Darkspawn's charge landed it directly in front of her mother, with Bethany standing guard between them. Her sister's face twisted in both fear and rage as she shouted, "Maker give me strength."

Marian didn't have a chance to shout a warning before the fireball rocketed from Bethany's staff and barely grazed the Darkspawn's armored forearm as it lifted to protect it's face from the heat. She could do nothing but watch in horror as the thing roared it's frustration and reached down with it's hulking fist and grabbed Bethany around her waist. In a split second, it slammed her twice on the ground, crushing her thin frame between it's hand and the dirt, leaving a smear of red by it's feet. Then it tossed her aside, having had it's fun and bellowed. Marian was on her feet, watching her sister's body skid across the mud as her mother chased after, sobbing loudly and then dropping to her knees to fruitlessly shout her name. The magic came unbidden. Marian approached the beast, staff in hand without even remembering enacting the spell to transform it. The burst of lightning arched through it's chest as she pushed the bolt from her core, the raw rage coalescing into a terrifying force. Marian weilded the mana with her despair. This thing had killed her sister and it would pay with it's life. When the lightning did little else than draw it's attention to her, she changed her tactic. Reaching deep inside, she called forth the fade, ripping through the veil for assistance. Before her, huge transparent arms projected from her own, following her movements as if they were her own hands. She grabbed a hold of the stunned creature, one hand at a time, by the shoulders, dropping her staff to concentrate her grip. Before it knew what had happened, Marian gritted her teeth and yanked her arms apart, the draw of mana nearly bringing her to her knees as she sapped every ounce she had on savagely ripping the muscled creature in two. Black ichor sprayed all around and she turned her face just in time to be sure none landed in her mouth. Then she dropped her arms and panted as Wesley scowled at her in frustration at having missed the fact that she was a mage.

Marian ignored the righteous glare and bent to retrieve her staff, as Carver engaged with a fresh wave of Darkspawn that had swarmed the plateau while she split the big one in two. With a deep inhalation, she spun the slender shaft of metal, drawing a small amount of mana from the crystal hidden in the rounded mace head at the top. The ones capable were fighting. They needed her help. She stepped up beside Aveline who simply glanced at her with curiosity rather than the glare from her husband and handed her a small draught of lyrium from her belt. She must have been carrying it for Wesley, because Marian could not smell templar on the woman. There was not even a hint of petrichor as she stood at Aveline's side. Thanking her with a nod, Marian downed the potion and tossed the bottle aside as she spindled the fresh mana pooling in her chest. The rush of the potion allowed her to fight again and she slammed the butt of her staff to the ground and released a spray of magic in a cone before her as darkspawn attempted to mass around her and Aveline. Carver had dealt with his group and was moving in from the side to join them, keeping his distance. The fire rippled along the ground in a shockwave, setting several Darkspawn ablaze. They fell screaming in an acrid pile of charring corrupted flesh. Marian wrinkled her nose in the pause in battle, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the stench. Then she whirrled and jogged to her mother who was attempting to shake Bethany awake. "Bethany, wake up! The battle's over! We're fine."

Aveline approached, her already soft voice taking on a somber tone as she quietly sheathed her sword. "I'm sorry, Mistress. Your daughter is gone."

Marian knelt, her eyes refusing to dip below Bethany's face to the broken body below. She could have been sleeping save for the blood sprayed across her cheeks. Her mother sobbed and wailed. "No! These things will not take Bethany!" Her hands stroked Bethany's face as she held her head in her lap.

Marian's heart fluttered in her chest making breathing mildly difficult and she briefly reached toward Bethany before drawing her hand back to her chest and holding it there with the other. "Maybe we should grieve when we're safe?" she suggested softly, cringing as her mother's stormy eyes shot up to her in anger.

"Don't speak to me of grief!" she growled in the tone that Marian had always hated as a child when she'd been particularly unruly and had gone to bed with a scolding and no supper. "This is your fault!" Marian lowered her eyes in shame and flinched, swallowing hot tears, as her mother blamed her for Bethany's death. "How could you let her charge off like that? Oh, my poor little girl. My sweetheart," she crooned, rubbing some of the blood from Bethany's cheek and smearing the rest. Then she lowered her head so her brow rested on Bethany's chest and sobbed softly.

Carver was beside Marian then, kneeling in his twin's pooling blood. "If we stand here weeping, the Darkspawn will take the rest of us, too." Marian could have reached out and punched him for his tone, but her hands would not obey her for the trembling. From her toes, numbness crept up her body and into her heart as she steeled herself to press on. She had failed Bethany, but she could not fail the others. She clenched her fists and her jaw tightly, pulling on her carefully built mask that defined her outside persona. Hardened determination iced with gritty and sarcastic wit. She cared for nothing and no one. All that mattered was the here and now. At least that is what her mask told the world. Inside, she screamed and wailed and pounded her fists against the wall in grief.

"Allow me to commend your daughter's soul to the Maker, Mistress," Wesley said as he stood next to his wife whose cheeks were reddened in sympathetic anguish. As he spoke, Marian's outer shell noticed the pale and sickly pallor to his skin contrasted with the black of his hair. Beneath his skin on his neck, his veins were showing up an eerie gray that was darkening and spreading by the minute. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together as she listened respectfully to his words. "Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, give this young woman a place at your side. Let us take comfort in the peace she has found in eternity."

Marian's mother lifted Bethany's head from her lap and slowly moved from beneath her, gently placing it back down on the ground. Then she stroked her cheek once more and whispered. "I will never forget you, Bethany."

"At least Father will have company, now," Marian said before dragging herself from the ground and turning with the others to continue forward. Her hand immediately reached for her staff as she saw the group of Darkspawn descending on them.

"Flames," Aveline cursed, drawing her sword. "We're too late."

The battle did not last long. Marian was drenched in sweat and ichor and Maker knew what else, but still, she fought. Her brother and Aveline beside her, cleared a path for her magic whenever any of the horde got too close. She was running low on mana again, but another draught of lyrium so close behind the last was asking for trouble. "There's no end to them!" Carver complained as he hefted his greatsword for another swing. The veins in his arms strained against the skin as he worked his thick muscles to the brink. None of them were dressed for battle, having fled home with the clothes on their backs and a few supplies when the horde had reached Lothering. Carver had arrived only hours beforehand, flustered and ragged. He had ditched his heavy armor and donned a sleeveless hide tunic and leather trousers. Marian was no better dressed, her own bare arms exposed to the elements. She had been enjoying a book by the fire when he had burst in with the news from Ostagar.

Before she could retort, an ear splitting rumble followed by a shrieking roar drew her attention to the cliffside at their backs. In her shock, she forgot about the Darkspawn as she gazed up at nothing less than a dragon perched, nice as you like, on the edge of the cliff. It spread it's wings and swooped down into the fray, thoughtfully holding it's breath of fire until it had passed over their heads and into the horde. Unbearable heat burst up around them as the dragon flew over the terrified Darkspawn that attempted to scatter. Marian erected a pathetic barrier around herself and the others to shield them from the flames that licked uncomfortably close, blocking them against the cliffs. The dragon caused mayhem in the Darkspawn ranks, if the mindless horde had such things, snatching unsuspecting hurlocks up, flying them into the air and dropping them with a splat on the burning ground below. Then it came in for a landing, swiping it's tail back and forth to swat more of the Darkspawn from the plateau and breathing more fire around. Marian threw her arms up to shield her face, choking on the acrid stench of burning flesh and backing away from the press of the heat. Her barrier would not hold much longer. Suddenly there was a pulse of powerful magic and she forced her eyes into the smoky air ahead, squinting and blinking as ash caked on her face. A bright flash of light drew her attention as the dragon folded it's wings around itself like a cocoon and shrunk down in the burst of magic. Some of the smoke and fire cleared with the wave of energy that rushed outward from the dragon, which was no longer a dragon. In it's place stood a crone with a Darkspawn clutched in her hand as the dragon had in it's front foot before the magic had taken hold. Marian stood gaping as the woman swayed toward them, her body surprisingly fit for her apparent age. She wore a thin leather outfit, dyed purple, that was decked out in several sharp looking pieces of armor on her forearms and from her thighs down to her feet. Her long white hair flowed behind her as if floating on the air and she still had enough of it left to twist into horn shaped protrusions off the sides of her head that swept backwards like the horns on her dragon form. She dropped the Darkspawn from her hand as it burned to a crisp and finally she was close enough to pause, place a hand on her hip and cock said hip to the side in a sultry gesture. "Well, well. What have we here?" Her yellow eyes sized up Marian and her group through a silver circlet that served more to shape around the bones of her face than as jewelry. She smirked as if she knew something they did not and was very pleased with herself for the fact. Marian placed herself between the stranger and her group, her magic swirling just below the skin should she need to defend herself. A clanking of metal drew her eyes for a split second as Aveline caught Wesley as he fell from exhaustion. His condition was not improving. Marian looked back at the elder woman as she spoke again. "It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now it seems they arrive in hordes!"

Marian appreciated the small pun, even as she narrowed her eyes, still trying to figure out exactly who this woman was. She carried no staff, but she was clearly a mage. "Impressive," she said casually, her uncaring mask still firmly in place. "Where'd you learn how to turn into a dragon?"

The woman smirked, and cocked her head, focusing on Marian who had singled herself out as their leader by placing herself in the position she stood in. Carver hovered at her elbow but said nothing. "Perhaps I _am_ a dragon," the woman said, her tone mocking. "If so, count yourselves lucky. The smell of burning Darkspawn does nothing for the appetite." She began to turn away while she spoke apparently not finding anything of interest. "If you wish to flee the Darkspawn, you should know you are heading in the wrong direction."

Carver pushed past Marian and shouted after the receding woman. "So you're just going to leave us here?"

She paused, only her head turning to speak over her shoulder. "And why not?" It seemed as if she debated internally for a moment before fully turning to gaze with a smile at Marian. "I spotted a most curious sight: a mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?" She shrugged slowly. "But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe... for the moment. Is that not enough?"

Marian shrugged her own shoulders."You could show me that trick of yours. That looks useful."

A small chuckle escaped the woman's throat. "I daresay it is! Such a clever tongue for a mage! Tell me, clever child: how do you intend to outrun the Blight?"

"We're going to Kirkwall... in the Free Marches," Carver offered, causing Marian to flick her eyes at him and scowl. Yes, dear brother, please tell the magic stranger where we're going.

The woman's eyes barely glanced at him before returning calculatingly to Marian. "Kirkwall? My, but that is quite the voyage you plan. So far... simply to flee the Darkspawn."

Marian crossed her arms. "Any better suggestions? I hear the Deep Roads are vacant now."

The woman cackled loudly in amusement. "Oh, you I like!" The amusement disappeared and her tone hummed prophetically. "Hurtled into the chaos, you fight... and the world will shake before you." Marian frowned in suspicion as the woman turned away again to look out over the wilds below, her arms crossed in thought. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide." Her arms dropped and she dipped her head as if to release a sigh that never came. Then she turned and said with a tense seriousness. "It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet."

"There must be a catch," Marian said, her frown still present.

The woman chuckled again under the scrutiny. "There is always a catch. Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can!"

"Should we even trust her?" Carver hissed after being the one to reveal their destination so easily. "We don't even know what she is!"

"I know what she is," Aveline said, drawing everyone's attention to her as she hovered at Wesley's side, his breathing ragged as he slumped against a rock. "The Witch of the Wilds."

Marian's attention snapped back to the old woman who nodded slowly, shrugging. "Some call me that. Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. An 'old hag who talks too much'!" she laughed at the last moniker. "Does it matter? I offer you this. I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a 'Witch of the Wilds'?"

Marian shrugged. "Roast a few more Darkspawn, I'll do anything you want!"

"Sadly, my charity is at an end," Flemeth said, still smiling. "There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall." She produced a shimmering jewel attached to a cord of leather. Marian could feel the magic humming around the amulet as it was handed to her. As she studied it, barely able to draw her eyes away from it, Flemeth continued. "Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full. Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter..." Her eyes flicked dangerously toward the fallen templar.

Both Flemeth and Marian turned as Wesley took a fit of coughing. They walked side by side, Flemeth's waves of magic fluttering over Marian's skin at such a close proximity. Aveline looked up as they approached and stood from her husband's side. "No! Leave him alone!"

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already," Flemeth said both sadly and coldly. An interesting combination if you asked Marian.

"You lie!" Aveline denied, her bright green eyes flashing to Flemeth in anger.

"She's right, Aveline," Wesley said softly. "I can feel the corruption inside me." Aveline's head hung in sorrow, her eyes closing.

Marian broke the silence first. "This corruption is the permanent sort, I take it?"

Flemeth nodded. "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."

"And they all died at Ostagar," Aveline sighed deeply.

"Not all," Flemeth corrected. "But the last are now beyond your reach."

Flemeth exchanged a glance with Marian as Aveline went to kneel back at Wesley's side. "Aveline, listen to me," he choked.

"You can't ask me this! I won't!" Aveline said, angrily, her voice catching, but not a single sign of tears shone in her eyes.

"Please," Wesley begged. "The corruption is a slow death. I can't..."

Marian moved to kneel as well as Aveline comforted her husband with a hand to his cheek. "He's your husband, Aveline. I can't decide his fate..." she said gently, yet urging. The Darkspawn would not stay away forever and Flemeth would not wait forever.

Aveline glanced at her, sadly nodding slowly. Wesley took in another ragged breath. "Be strong, my love." Then he pulled a long dagger from his belt and held it out to Aveline. She slowly added her hands to his and steadied the dagger above his heart. With another nod of assurance, she closed her mouth, holding her breath as she slipped the dagger easily through the soft spot of his armor, piercing directly through his heart. He gasped in one final breath before his head slumped backwards. Aveline let her own breath out in a silent exhalation as she reached out to close his eyes.

As she stood, Flemeth approached her from behind and offered surprising words of consolation. "Without an end, there can be no peace." Then she turned and walked from the group to the center of the plateau. "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."

She knelt in a clear patch of ground, free of Darkspawn, fire, and blood, and began to trace glyphs in the dirt. Marian moved closer to observe, trying to work out what magic she was using. None of the glyphs made any sense and none of the words that Flemeth mumbled softly were in any language that Marian recognized. They sounded vaguely elven, but Marian was definitely no expert. A chill settled into the air as they waited quietly, all of them in their own bubbles of grief. Marian closed her eyes, attempting to scrub the image of Bethany being slammed into the ground from her mind. When that didn't work, she knelt beside Alfie and hugged his neck, rubbing her shaking hands down the dog's back. "Who's a good boy?" she asked quietly, making his entire hind end wag happily while his stub of a tail attempted to show his pride.

After a great deal of preperation, Flemeth gathered them inside a circle she had traced out and then stepped from it herself. With a commanding tone, she lifted her arms and mana poured into the air, kicking up a cold wind that pulled the hair still clinging to Marian's forehead. An uncomfortable thrumming began in her ears and then Marian instinctively swallowed, her ears popping. Her breathing slowed to a snail's pace and the rise and fall of her chest became a laborious task. Then her stomach twisted and the world fell out from under her. It was only seconds, but it felt like years before she found herself on her hands and knees wretching in the grass. Wait, grass? They had been standing on a barren plateau. She balled her fists in the lush greenery and marveled. When she looked up, the others were beside her, all of them looking a bit worse for the wear. Alfie was lying on his side, whimpering pathetically. Marian crawled to him and pet down his side reassuringly. His moist brown eyes gazed at her and his tail began to slowly wag. She soothed him while she too regained her bearings. "Where are we?" Carver asked after he was finished helping mother to her feet.

"Just outside Gwaren," Marian suggested, pointing to a nearby road sign.

"Ten miles to be precise," Aveline agreed dusting herself off, her skin a bit green as she wobbled in place.

"I don't think I ever want to do that again," Marian groaned, getting to her feet as Alfie, in true dog fashion, recovered and began to lick her face. She shoved him off, his breath even worse than usual after fighting Darkspawn for the better part of the morning. "At least the Darkspawn are gone."

They trudged along the road, slowly at first as Marian stowed her staff and Carver scouted ahead for trouble. There were a lot of people on the road, likely more refugees making for the coast as they were. Ferelden was a bad place to be at the moment and it seemed like the rest of the country was getting the message. It would have taken them weeks to get where they were on foot and Marian silently thanked Flemeth as they stepped under the archway that led into the city. After they cleaned up and found a meager bite to eat in an inn, Marian was able to finagle a handsome bargain for passage to Kirkwall on a small ship. The rates were pratically a steal due to the sheer amount of demand. Before nightfall, they found themselves below deck in the hold, crowded in with more refugees than Marian thought might be wise on a vessel that size. They ferreted out a space to huddle together and settled in for a long voyage.

 

Her tailbone was asleep. Again. Marian shifted, bumping her shoulder into Carver who shot her an irritated glare before lowering his head back to his knees. She rolled her eyes and considered bumping him again just for spite, but instead she sighed and Alfie lifted his head to look at her questioningly. For two weeks, they had been trapped in the ripening hold, jammed together like sardines. She tipped her head back, banging it harder on the pole behind her than was likely necessary, but it made her feel better. Alfie whimpered and rested his chin back on her thigh, so she reached out blindly and scratched his ears, still watching the feet of the crew above on the deck as they paced back and forth overhead.

Nobody said much except for the occassional, 'excuse me' as people made their way around. Marian and her people kept to themselves, shifting out of the way when necessary and politely accepting food when it was passed around. If there was anything in the world that Marian hated, it was feeling trapped. She was nearly at her wits end, itching to shoot a lightning bolt at the nearly toothless man across from her that leered incessantly in her direction. She was convinced that the only reason he had not approached her was the two heavily armed warriors at her sides. Little did he know that she personally was likely more dangerous. An intensifying of the footsteps over head and a few lackluster shouts made her curious. She gently shooed Alfie from her leg and intentionally bumped Carver again as she stood to go up on deck and see what the fuss was about.

She picked her way carefully through the rest of the human cargo and up the short flight of wooden steps. The hatch had been left open to allow some air below deck and she climbed out easily. The first thing she saw was the sailors reigning in the sails. She made her way to the bow of the ship, enjoying the fresh sea air as the wind sprayed her face with salty water. Two massive mountains rose up to either side of the inlet where the ship was pointed. Carved into the rock itself were the defining statues of Kirkwall known as 'the twins'. They depicted men dressed in rags, their backs holding up the mountain as they hid their faces in their palms. Kirkwall had been owned by Tevinter when it was carved by the dwarves and the statues were meant to depict the fact that it was historically the center of slave trade. Between the statues, below the water in the harbor, there were massive chain nets that could be lifted in case anyone was ever stupid enough to try to lead an assault against the city from the water. Marian marveled at the beauty even as the Gallows where their ship was headed bore down on her. The Gallows was where the Circle of Magi stood over Kirkwall, it's reputation one of horror and opression. Marian felt nervous sweat begin to seep from her brow in spite of the cold air that blew across the deck of the ship. As the only mage left of their little party, she stood the most to lose. If she flaunted her magic in this city, she may not ever be free again. She would have to be extremely cautious.

She stood and watched as they sailed under the twins and into the harbor, no one on deck paying her any heed as long as she stayed out of the way. The docks were nearly filled to capacity with both ships and people, the refugees all pouring in from all over Ferelden. As the ship began to slow and pull into a dock, she turned and headed back toward the hatch to collect her family and Aveline. The woman had become a friend in circumstance and whatever Marian could do for her would be too little. Her sword and quiet glare had watched over Marian's family throughout the trip.

Carver looked up at her expectantly as she approached. "Time to get off this Maker forsaken ship. Welcome to the city of chains," she announced softly as the rest of the people began to stir, feeling the slowing of the ship. They gathered their meager belongings and followed her on deck where the captain offered her a salute which she returned with a grin before hopping gratefully from the deck, not even waiting for the gangplank. Her boots hit the wooden dock and she stretched her stiff muscles as she waited for the others. It felt like a blessing to be off the cramped and rocking ship. At a glance, there were dozens of groups, just like hers, some reuniting with friends and family, and others scared and alone with no where to go. Mother had sent a letter ahead of them from Gwaren to their uncle who lived in the city, but it didn't seem that he had deigned to greet their ship.

Marian paced to the end of the dock, the others at her heels after trudging down the gangplank. Aveline narrowed her eyes as they made their way through the crowd toward the city gates. "They're not letting anyone into the city," she observed.

"What? That can't be!" Marian's mother gasped in disappointment as they halted their stride. It was the first real words she'd spoken since Bethany other than please, thank you and other niceties.

"It's true. Look at them all," Aveline pointed toward the gates where a lone guard stood in the open entryway with his hands raised to hold back the gathering crowd. There were several more armed and armored guards standing about to keep the masses in check.

"Are we really surprised? Everyone's fleeing the Blight, just as we are," Carver said with a snort, moving to put a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder.

"And they would throw us all back to the wolves. Unbelieveable," Aveline said with a grunt.

"I'm only surprised they let us dock," Marian said with a shrug. As soon as she'd seen the piles of refugees on the docks, she had expected resistance.

"We need to find Gamlen," her mother said. "Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall. He can do something. I'm sure of it!"

"Let's hope he received your letter," Carver said with a sigh as their mother stepped forward with new confidence.

"The guards seem to be reporting to that man. Perhaps we should speak to him," Aveline suggested, eyeing the man at the front of the guards who was still holding his hands out.

Marian pushed past them all and headed directly for the man. She had not come all this way to be turned out at the gates. As she approached with her chin high and her chest puffed out, he glared directly at her and said, "Get back to the crowd, you lot. Trying to bully your way through won't get you into Kirkwall any faster!"

"But you do intend to let us in?" Aveline asked skeptically as she joined Marian.

The guard let out a short bark of laughter. "We have enough poor of our own in the Free Marches. We don't need you refugees piling up like a middens heap!"

"There must be someone in charge I can speak with," Marian crossed her arms and took in the man's uniform, no different from those around him. He was not the Captain.

He sighed angrily and flapped a hand as she insulted his status. "Yes, yes, always the same story. You want in, talk to Captain Ewald. I'm just here to keep you refuse from climbing the walls."

Marian pressed her lips together to ignore the jab as he stepped to the side to allow them through to the courtyard. Once she passed the guard, her steps slowed and she hesitantly entered the courtyard where the Gallows stood menacingly ahead. There were more, smaller versions of the twins lined along the entryway stairs. Some knelt and some were huddled in the fetal position, but all of them stood as a reminder that Kirkwall was no friendly place to be if you were a mage. Marian swallowed as they crossed the courtyard, her eyes finding every single tranquil merchant that stood in plain sight, another threat to the mages.

Just ahead, there was a group of armed mercenaries, their gear suggesting they were also Ferelden refugees. They argued with a guard with bright red hair and a much more well made uniform than the insulting man at the gates. "Let us through, you flaming blighter! We're not staying in this pit!" The obvious leader of the group jabbed his finger into the guard's personal space.

"Then get back on your ship and leave. Kirkwall has no more room for refugees," the Guard Captain said calmly, his hands clasped firmly behind his back so he would not rise to the bait of the armed group before him.

"The ship's already gone!" Another of the mercenaries groaned in agitation. "We paid good coin to get here!"

"You and half of Ferelden," the Captain said slowly as Marian approached to the side, quietly observing the conversation. "There's nothing I can do! The city is full!"

"Surely there's a bit of extra room for the pretty people?" Marian quipped with a smirk.

In spite of the small grin on his face, the guard said, "I find keeping my neck away from Knight-Commander Meredith's blade far more attractive than any of you." He sighed. "We've been letting you Fereldens in for months. You're too late. There's no more room!" Marian wondered if he was getting tired of repeating himself.

"But we've got family here!" Carver interjected.

"I've heard claims like that a thousand times already. Trust me," the guard sighed again. "We'll find some ships to take you all back to Ferelden... eventually. Until then, you stay here."

Marian shook her head slowly and took another step closer to him. "If you find our uncle, Gamlen Amell, you might just have a few less refugees bothering you." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping he might take the bait.

"Gamlen. I know that name..." he said with a frown.

"He's a nobleman here in the city," Carver offered. "Our family has an estate."

"A nobleman?" the guard asked with another frown and a small shake of his head. "The only Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together... He comes back, I'll bring you to him. But I don't have time to..."

The guard was cut off as the mercenaries grew agitated. "What? You're going to let them through?"

"I didn't say anything about..." the guard began, but never had a chance to finish.

"We've been here for four days! They just got here!" the man who had lamented their missing ship shouted.

"That's it!" the leader shouted as loudly. "We're carving our way out of here. Men!"

The courtyard erupted in a flurry of action. Marian pulled her mother to safety behind one of the bronze statues and then raced back out to help the captain. Carver, Aveline and Alfie were already defending the man. Marian pulled the staff from her hip, but left it in the shape of a mace. No use in giving herself away in the middle of the Gallows courtyard. She dipped into her mana pool and gave herself a small amount of extra strength as she bolted into the fray, slamming the spikey ball of her mace into the head of a nearby mercenary. The man fell under her weight and momentum, his head caved from behind. The mercenaries were shooting to kill, she realized, as an arrow barely skimmed past her face as she ducked out of the way. She turned and spotted the archer, then rushed to him, screaming in anger as he took aim for her brother. She tackled the archer, the bow and their limbs tangling together as she puched the man in his face. With a small flame in her hand, she grabbed the bowstring, snapping it in two with the heat. It gave her the chance to extricate her legs and kick the man who was trying to sit up and gain the upper hand. Her boot connected with his face and blood sprayed from his mouth. She scrambled to her feet and knocked a dagger away that had appeared in his hand. She swung the mace down and knocked him out cold before moving on to the next threat. In spite of what was happening, it felt good to be able to move her body. She personally took down two more mercenaries before the scuffle subsided, her side clearly victorious. Marian brushed herself off, pocketing one of the mercenaries' daggers to keep as her own, and returned to the captain, just as the man from the gates came running into the courtyard. "Unbelievable," the Captain muttered, wiping blood from his sword.

"Captain! Are you all right?" the guard asked, panting from his run.

"I am, no thanks to you. Where is everyone? Go find them. I want this kept under control!" he ordered and the guard scrambled off to do as he was told, all of his former bluster gone. The Captain turned a smile on Marian. "You have my thanks." Then he sighed. "Look, I can't get you into the city. It's not my decision, but I'll find your uncle and bring him here."

Marian nodded her thanks and went to tell the others. She hoped the Captain hurried. She was not keen on hanging around the Gallows any longer than was necessary. She always felt like the templars could smell her magic on her as much as she could smell the lyrium on them. It made her uneasy.

 

She sat on the hard ground, feeling no less trapped than she had on the ship days ago. Carver leaned on the wall beside her, glaring out at the courtyard while Aveline began her ritual pacing that usually started around two hours after dawn and persisted until near dusk. Marian's eyes had gotten tired watching her after day one so now she ignored it as best she could and kept to her own ritual of practicing some hand gestures for a few spells that father had been teaching her and Bethany before he'd died. It was hard to imagine her father cooped up in the imposing building that loomed to her right. He had been a resident of the Kirkwall Circle until he had met mother at a social function that the nobles of the city had hired the mages to perform at like jesters for hire. She attempted to picture Leandra, 30 years younger, dressed in the fine clothes of the time, sipping wine and noticing her father as he cast flashy spells for the amusement of the assembled guests. It brought a smile to her face just imagining it as she stared absently at her mother.

Aveline's frustrated voice broke her from her reverie and she was forced to turn her eyes on the pacing ball of irritation that was the red headed warrior. "It's been three days. This waiting has to end." Marian sighed and stood up, hoping not having to look up at the pacing might allow her neck a reprieve.

"I'm sure it won't be much longer," Leandra insisted, her fingers playing with each other, just shy of wringing her hands with nerves. She had not seen her family in years. Marian knew some things about the Amells, but not much. Apparently running away from home with an apostate mage was a point of contention for the Amell household. Her grandparents had been dead for years and her mother's other siblings had their own troubles and were estranged from the family, or dead. Gamlen was the only one left. "Gamlen must still be looking for us!" she said, her shoulders slightly slumping as she said it out loud.

Marian glanced away from Aveline as she noticed movement from nearer the Gallows gates. "And if he's not?" Aveline said sharply.

Marian noted the guard Captain entering with an older man who looked to be near her mother's age. From this distance, she could not be certain, but it was possible. "Don't look now, but I think that's our man." She pointed and moved to her mother's side as Carver pushed away from the wall.

When the guard pointed toward them, the man approached, throwing his arms out in greeting. "Leandra! Damn, girl, the years haven't been kind to you."

"Gamlen!" her mother cried, throwing herself into the man's arms in a hug that he slowly returned, surprise on his face.

He cleared his throat as she backed away and her eyes studied him. "Let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this. The Blight, your husband dead... I'd, ah, figured you'd pretty much be Ferelden for life." Marian's nose began to twitch as the man shuffled his feet and averted his gaze from her mother in a look of guilt.

"Oh, Gamlen, we came too late. My darling Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her," her mother sobbed, oblivious to the tells that he was sending her way.

Gamlen reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Maker save me. Leandra, don't drop this on me here. I don't even know if I can help you get in."

And there it was. Marian crossed her arms and sized him up. Weasel indeed. "Would it help if I said you were my favorite uncle?" she said brightly, trying to save her mother's feelings as she watched her almost curling back up on herself like she had when Bethany had died.

Gamlen snickered and said, "It'd make me feel better, but that's about it... I was hoping to grease some palms, but the Knight-Commander's been cracking down. We're gonna need more grease."

Leandra's head shot up. "But... what about the estate? Surely Father left something when he died."

The shifty look of guilt was back and he said, "Right, about the estate... it's, uh, gone. To settle a debt. I've been meaning to write you." A pathetic shrug accompanied his words.

"Then there's no hope," Leandra sighed, her head falling.

"Not quite," Gamlen said, scrambling to regain some approval. "I know some people who might help... if you're not too delicate about the company you keep."

"Let's hear it, Uncle. What do you have in mind?" Marian asked with a shrug. Anything for her mother.

"I talked to my contacts and I found some people who might be willing to pay your way into the city. The catch is you and your brother will have to work off the debt. For a year," Gamlen explained quickly before anyone could object.

"A year!" her mother gasped in horror.

"It's the best I could do! Trust me when I say a bunch of refugees won't get a better option anywhere else," he grumbled at the disapproving glare Leandra was laying on him.

Marian touched a hand to her mother's arm and said reassuringly. "I'm sure we'll be free and clear before we know it."

Gamlen sighed in relief. "I managed to convince my contacts to come to the Gallows to meet you personally. Meeran heads up the mercenary company, the Red Iron. They're looking for recruits. Athenril... I guess you might call her a smuggler. Either one of them can help you. All you need to do is find them in the courtyard and convince them you're worth the trouble."

Marian sighed. "What do you think about this, Carver?"

"What can I say? Better here than nowhere," he shrugged.

"Let's find them and see what they have to say," she agreed. She didn't fancy having to work for shady people for a year, but what choice did she have? It was better than sitting around the Gallows waiting for the templars to smell her out.

"Oh, Gamlen, I don't know about this," Leandra began to object again.

"It's a lot of coin, Leandra. Don't go expecting our name to carry the kind of weight it used to," Gamlen growled.

Suddenly Aveline stepped forward. "And what of me? I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf."

Gamlen took one look at her and chuckled. "Can't see that it makes a difference. You look like a lady who can pull her own weight."

"Then you'll come with us," Leandra insisted as Marian nodded emphatically.

"I... have no real option. Thank you," Aveline sighed in relief.

 

 

Marian left her mother with Gamlen and sought, in her opinion, the more moral of her options. Athenril was a tiny slip of a girl, her redbrown hair pulled up in a tight bun with bangs hanging over her face. The style greatly emphasized her pointed ears and large eyes that marked her as elven. What marked her as the woman Marian was looking for was the crew of men standing around her and the calculating look she set on every one around her. Something told Marian that if there was anything you needed, this woman could get it for you. She approached warily and the elf cast that same look on her. Then she grinned slightly when she realized who she was looking at. "Are you Athenril?" Marian asked a bit unnecessarily.

"You must be Gamlen's niece. Interesting." The elf sized her up slowly, her eyes roving over every inch of Marian. "I don't know what he's told you about us, but he certainly told us a great deal about you."

"Er... how much, exactly?" Carver asked warily, exchanging a glance with Marian who begged him with her eyes to not act suspicious.

Athenril crossed her arms and grinned. "Enough to pique our interest, provided you can justify your uncle's confidence."

"Tell me what you need done," Marian answered with her own confidence. She didn't need Gamlen's.

Athenril waved her closer, glancing around for prying eyes and ears. Satisfied there was no one listening, Marian bent so the shorter woman might whisper to her. "There's a merchant named Cavril. Friend of the templars, so they let him set up his little shop here in the Gallows. We supplied him in return for a piece of the take, but now he won't pay up. We can't go near him without him screaming for the guard... but you can. Get our money from him and you're in." Athenril casually pointed out the merchant and shooed her on her way. Marian scowled, and strolled over to the merchant's table.

After watching the toad of a man swindle a fellow refugee out of good coin, she crossed her arms and he regarded her with a smile as he recognized three Fereldens fresh off the boat. "Now then! What can I do for you, serah?"

With a breathy sigh, Marian rolled her eyes. "I believe you owe your business partners something?"

The merchant narrowed his eyes, taking a better look at her and the two heavily armed warriors that stood to either side of her, sharing her scowl. "Oh... I see."

"Should I go tell the guards?" one of his hired muscle asked from behind a mask that obstructed his identity.

"Not just yet. I want to hear this," Cavril said holding up a hand and flicking his eyes between Carver and Aveline. Marian chuckled to herself as he overlooked her. Everyone always overlooked her. "So Athenril sent you to collect, did she? Too cowardly to do it herself?"

"This has all been a misunderstanding, hasn't it?" Marian asked, patting her mace shaped staff and grinning.

"You think so?" he asked with a sneer.

"I do! Don't you think business partners deserve a return on their investment?" She added, slipping a small spark from her fingertips where he watched her trace fingers over the staff. It was impossible for anyone else to see the hint of magic, but it made the man back up.

"Enough, enough. I'm tired of fighting over this," he grumbled, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. "Here, take the key for the chest. That should be enough to pay that witch. Now I'm getting out of here. Let those guards find someone else to buy dog-land junk!" He began ordering his men to pack up this things and Marian caught the key as he tossed it to her. She strode to the chest and knelt, opening it up. Inside was a coin pouch full of coppers. Marian guessed there was likely two whole sovereigns in it. Impressed, she pocketed the pouch and tossed the useless key onto the table before heading back to Athenril.

The elf looked shocked as she strolled up with an air of confidence and tossed her the pouch. "You could have given us something more challenging."

"Will you look at that," Athenril gasped, testing the weight of the pouch and handing it over to another elf at her side. "Tell your uncle we'll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard." Athenril shook Marian's hand with an excited grin.

They returned to Leandra and Gamlen and when she informed him of what Athenril had said, he sputtered a moment and then grinned as if he had not expected them to succeed. "Was there ever any doubt?" Marian asked sarcastically.

"I'll speak to Athenril and see when the bribes can be made. Wait here," Gamlen said, still in shock.

When he wandered off, Carver grunted. "I guess we did it. We're here to stay, at least for a while."

"No more running for our lives unless we _really_ have to," Marian advised with a chuckle.

"If only Bethany were here with us," Leandra lamented sadly.

"And Wesley," Aveline sighed, her head drooping momentarily as she relived her own grief.

"Well, we're off to a fantastic start. Let's see what else this city has in store," Marian said with forced optimism.

 


	2. Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their first year in Kirkwall, Marian becomes just a little bit famous.

There were a lot of inscrutable things that Marian had been forced to do while in service to Athenril, but she did what needed doing to protect her family. Aveline had lasted about a week before she stormed off in a huff and joined the city guard. Marian found herself being referred to more and more by her surname during her missions and found that it suited her much better than her given name. As her reputation grew in the undercity, Hawke was a name on a lot of people's lips. It made her both infamous and a little nervous. Luckily she had trained enough with daggers as a child to pass for a rogue and none of the rumors flying about her had anything to do with her being a mage. Her secret was safe for the moment.

She trudged through Lowtown, counting her paces as she found herself having to do every so often to remember her way through the labyrinth of streets. The city had been designed to discourage slaves from gathering and trying to rebel, making it difficult to make your way around. Gamlen had taken them in, allowing them to live with him in his tiny hovel. Hawke passed 'The Hanged Man', the local place to drink in Lowtown, and paused to remember if it was a left or a right back to Gamlen's residence. She took the left and dropped a single copper for the beggar pawing at her feet. She was dressed in fine studded leather armor that Athenril had provided her and she found it easier to give small amounts of coin to the beggars than to ignore them. She had made this particular discovery shortly after her first trip to Darktown when someone had flung actual shit at her for passing by without so much as a glance. Now the reaction was automatic. See a beggar, drop a coin.

Around the corner in a small courtyard in the slums stood Gamlen's 'house'. Hawke used the term loosely because she was convinced that breathing wrong or shifting in her sleep was going to bring the entire roof caving in on them. She heard muffled arguing coming from inside and she sighed as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Carver and Gamlen were at it again, arguing over a hand of cards. In the seven months they had been in the city, this had happened at least once a week. It was usually on the night after Carver was awarded his earnings for the week and was dumb enough to bet against their uncle who was a nasty cheat.

Alfie jumped up from his place beside the door to the bedroom where they all slept on bunks and bounded across the living area to greet her. She knelt and rubbed his belly as he rolled onto his back, his tongue lolling out and dripping drool on the floor. He followed her into the bedroom as she passed by the arguing men, jumping up and down and sniffing at the pouch she carried at her hip. "Off you great oaf," she grunted, pushing him away as he nearly tripped her, trying to stuff his nose in the pouch after the jerky she had gotten him as a treat. She kicked off her boots and sat on her bunk, stretching her legs and wiggling her toes as he was distracted by the smell of her boots. Then she pulled out the pouch and began to hand feed the jerky to him. "Why yes, Alfie, I _have_ been to Darktown today. How did you know?"

He thumped down on the floor, his butt wagging as he munched his snack and she sat back, leaning against the wall and tucking her feet up under her. "I thought I heard you come in," her mother said, entering the room and breaking her out of her reverie. "How was your day?"

"Oh, the usual. Secret meetings, stolen goods. Oh, and I got to make a lovely trip to the brothel. That was extra special," Hawke rolled her eyes as Leandra chuckled softly.

"I spoke to Aveline today," Leandra informed her. "She is doing well with the guard."

"Good," Hawke said with a smile waiting for the second shoe to drop. Her mother never came to speak with her like this unless she wanted something. Not since Bethany.

Leandra sat down on the edge of the bed and Hawke watched her closely. Her eyes were pinched and the lines around them had deepened since the last time Hawke had truly looked at her while she wasn't paying attention. Sure signs of stress. Hawke sat forward, resting her arms in her lap and cocked her head to show her mother she was listening. "Do you think you might be able to talk to them? I can't stand to listen to them argue anymore..." Leandra said with a deep sigh. "Nothing I ever say matters, but you have such a way with words. Like your father used to."

"I've tried talking beggars out of their last coin, but it never seems to work like Father thought it would," she said sarcastically, as she said most things. She had always taken most things with a grain of salt, using her humor as her way of telling the world to suck an egg if necessary. Since coming to Kirkwall, nearly every word out of her mouth had the breathy note of underlying wit that accounted for half of her success in the undercity. People liked her. No matter how much she insulted them, her tone was her saving grace, backed by the threat of her skills. The ones who mattered knew what she was and it kept a lid on the rest of the rabble that she dealt with.

She pulled her legs out from under herself and swung them to the floor with a sigh. When she made it across the tiny room and into the living area, Carver and Gamlen were standing, face to face, only inches separating them. Hawke's eyes bugged as Carver pulled his fist back, fixing to knock Gamlen's teeth out. She reacted, calling her magic to erect a barrier between them. Carver's fist connected with her magic and she heard a sickening crunch as his finger snapped. "Son of a bitch!" he cried as Gamlen stepped away from the magic. Hawke dropped the spell and rushed to Carver's side, grabbing his hand as he shook it reflexively. "Don't touch me!" he growled, pulling away from her.

She pressed her lips together as the scent of booze reached her nose and she realized he had been losing his money to more than Gamlen. "Yes, Carver, pull away from the mage trying to heal your broken hand..."

"It's only broken because of your stupid spell," he shouted loudly, making her thankful that the thin walls weren't thin enough to allow the neighbors to be privy to anything more than muffled shouting and not the actual words accompanying the harsh tones.

She snatched his hand again and held tightly, pouring just enough magic into the spell to mend the bone. He scowled and yanked it back, rubbing the tender knuckle with his other hand. "Now hug and make up. You two are giving Mother a headache," Hawke spat, going back into the room and snatching her boots from the floor. She tugged them back on her feet and whistled for Alfie to follow. Outside, the air had gone frigid and she shuddered, summoning enough magic to erect an invisible barrier around her and fill it with her temper to keep her warm as she stomped through the streets. She really wasn't sure where she was heading, but she couldn't be in that house. Not while Carver wanted to act like a fool. Bethany had been his counter point. The sweet to his sour. Now without her, he was a right pain in the ass.

Kicking a stone along the ground, she watched it skitter to a stop in front of the Hanged Man. She glanced up to take note of the oversized stuffed dummy hung by it's foot from a rope attached to a pole outside the establishment. The 'man' was bound and gagged with a spiritless look on his artificial face. Hawke couldn't blame him. If someone were to hang her, she would hope it would be by the neck. The death was quicker. She shrugged and made her way inside. She had never been in the tavern before and figured this night was as good as any to find out what the hype was all about.

She was pleasantly surprised when she stepped inside to a warm room full of semi familiar faces. A lot of her contacts were peppered around the dozen or so tables arranged tightly together in the common area. The bar was to her left and the hearth straight ahead. Behind the hearth where the room expanded farther back, there was a flight of stairs that led up to a collection of private rooms that could be rented for all sorts of business or pleasure. Hawke casually dropped her spells and allowed the hearth to provide her warmth as she picked her way around the tables to the bar. A few men tracked her progress, but she ignored them, the bartender the only man she was in the mood to talk to. She ordered a shot of whiskey and an ale to wash it down then found an empty seat in a corner to enjoy her drinks. The drinks were sub par, but the atmosphere in the Hanged Man was like no other. She saw people from all walks of life gathered together and simply drinking or playing cards or flirting. The whiskey warmed her chest and she smiled contentedly as she absorbed the atmosphere. Alfie sat on the floor beside her, as welcome as she was, his tongue happily hanging from his mouth. It was the first time she stepped foot in the Hanged Man, but it would certainly not be the last.

 

Hawke and Carver were on the docks overseeing a midnight shipment. They were nearing the end of their year with Athenril. Hawke watched over her shoulder while Carver studiously kept an eye out for trouble on their end. "Do you know what those torches are lit for by the stairs to Lowtown?" Hawke asked conversationally, her voice muffled by the triangular mask that obscured her identity from the nose down, as she squinted her eyes to see better.

Carver absently glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "I overheard some people talking about a shipload of Qunari getting stranded here a few days ago when that storm hit," he grumbled, crossing his arms at the distraction in his duty.

Hawke yawned as the men unloaded another crate. Then she stretched her arms over her head, several of her vertebrae popping in a row. She sighed in relief before she caught slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Her hands were on her daggers in seconds as she grunted a warning to Carver. He reached for his greatsword, but an arrow slammed into his shoulder before he could get it unsheathed. "Carver!" Hawke shouted as another arrow zipped out of the darkness and took him in the side. He dropped down out of the line of fire and waved her off, clutching his side as blood welled from the wound.

"I'll be fine," he growled through gritted teeth. "Go!"

Hawke stood from her crouch, scouting the direction that the arrows had come from. She could barely see in the darkness of the hour and Athenril's men had scattered. "Useless," she cursed as she erected a barrier around herself for protection from any more arrows that might find her an easy target. She moved forward, heedless of the slew of projectiles bouncing off of her barrier. The archers gave away their positions with shouts of surprise as they realized that they weren't causing her any damage. "What's the matter?" she taunted as her magic trickled into her palms, sparking little arcs of lightning between her fingertips. "Never fought a mage before?" She pushed the spell from her hands, aiming for the closest archer and a bolt of lightning struck from the cloudless sky. She reigned in her anger, and focused it on several of the others surrounding her. The single bolt chained from one enemy to the next, striking with increasing force as it gathered power from her will. Without a staff, focusing was harder than usual. A couple of brave warriors lunged from the shadows as her magic slaughtered their companions. The smell of burning filled the air, mixing with the salty sea air and a hint of blood.

Hawke turned and flung her hand outwards, a ball of fire leaving her fingertips and hitting the chest of one of the warriors. The man running beside him faltered as her attention switched to him. She brought her other hand around and a bolt of pure energy shot toward him, causing his body to go rigid before he fell. A third warrior shouted in anger and she closed her fist, summoning a crushing prison around his body as her eyes traced the glyph beneath him. Most mages needed physical contact to draw a glyph. Hawke had learned very early in life that she was not one of them. Her father had been amazed when she had been able to quickly out cast him at nine years old. She watched as her spell slowly eeked the life from the man's body, collapsing his lungs with the pressure of his armor surrounding his chest. With a final gurgle, the spell dissipated and the man fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose and mouth.

Hawke assessed her surroundings and concluded that the attackers were either dead or had fled. She rushed back to Carver's side where he had already ripped the arrow from his shoulder and was preparing to go for the one in his gut. "Stop!" she shouted, dropping beside him and slapping his hands away. "You'll bleed to death."

"Not faster than you can heal me, sister," he spat.

She rolled her eyes and laid her hands on him, blue auras of healing magic surrounding them already. She closed the shoulder wound and then wrapped her right hand around the shaft of the arrow still in his gut. She healed as she pulled, drawing out his pain, but making it safer than ripping more flesh and possibly not having enough mana left to close it completely. She had expended a lot in her chain lightning spell. When the arrow was free, she finished closing his flesh and he glared at her. "How exactly am I being blamed for this?" she asked as she recognized the look on his face.

She stood and held her hand out and he took it, still scowling as she pulled him to his feet. "This was _your_ job."

"Exactly. Nobody asked you to come along," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"If I hadn't been here, those arrows would have found you instead," he shrugged.

Hawke rolled her eyes and stomped back to the corpses of the men not burned to a crisp. "These were Coterie."

"How did the Coterie get tipped off about this shipment?" Carver wondered aloud, his curiosity outweighing his anger.

"Maker knows, but I intend to have a word with Athenril in the morning. Let's get out of here before the guard shows up and I get caught red handed," she sighed, getting back to her feet and leaving the bodies behind.

 

Hawke strode up to Athenril near dawn, pulling her cloak tighter around her throat. There was a chill in the air that told her winter might be early this year. When she noticed her approaching, Athenril cocked her head and smiled. "How did the job go last night?"

Hawke stopped across the table from her and clamly laid her hands flat on the wooden surface. The papers on the job board flapped angrily in the cold wind as Hawke's breath puffed out around her. "I think you know exactly how last night went down, 'Then," Hawke purred, her anger clear around the sweet tone she used.

Athenril straightened and crossed her arms. "Do I? Perhaps you should jog my memory."

"Funny thing. We were unloading the cargo and some impeccably timed arrows took out my brother and scattered your _reliable_ crew... care to guess who owned the arrows?" Hawke held up a hand before Athenril could answer. "Coterie..."

"Since you're standing here, I'll assume you took care of them?" Athenril scowled. "Did you recover the cargo?"

"Carver is fine. Thanks for asking," Hawke said mockingly pushing away from the surface to turn her back on the elf.

"Please, Hawke. You wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could handle a few Coterie thugs. Now I'll ask again. Did you recover the cargo?"

Hawke ripped the guild pin from her armor and spun to toss it on the table. "Go recover your own cargo," she spat, dramatically furling her cloak around her and storming off. She ignored he shouts of her name as she passed by the brothel and hopped down the stairs back to Lowtown. Athenril may have gotten her into the city and given her and Carver jobs, but Hawke could do better. The city was teeming with work if you knew where to look, and Hawke knew precisely where to look. When her feet hit the pavement at the bottom of the stairs, she took a stroll through the open air market, passing up her usual haunts with no more than short nods and smiles. She was on a mission. Down more stairs, through more market, around a building dead center of the street and back up more stairs at the end of the market, Hawke smiled as she found herself outside the entrance of the Hanged Man. After nearly a year, the streets were becoming familiar. She could almost map out the twisting and winding paths in her head, barely pausing at intersections anymore to figure out where she as going. She pushed open the door and stepped into the smokey tavern. The smell of the mystery meat stew filled her nostrils and she wasn't certain if it was appetizing or disturbing. It was the Hanged Man's signature dish, but she had never gotten up the nerve to try it.

She made her way to her usual table and the serving girl, Norah, approached her with a smile. "Good Morning, Hawke. What can I get you?"

Hawke lifed her feet and crossed her ankles, propping them on a chair beside her. The tavern was fairly empty at this time of morning, giving Hawke Norah's undivided attention. "Oh, I don't know. I expect the stew is especially meaty this morning. In unrelated news, there was a spat at the docks last night. Did you hear about that?"

Norah snorted. "Eggs and toast then, love?"

Hawke nodded. "Please. And some tea if you have it."

"Coming right up," Norah said sauntering past Hawke as she leaned back in her chair, the front feet leaving the floor as she balanced on the back.

She felt free for the first time since coming to Kirkwall. Athenril's deal may have gotten them into the city, but it left them barely able to dig out of the hole that Gamlen had dug himself in and then offered to share with them. Hawke set her ears on passive listening, quietly closing her eyes and leaning her head back. Gossip was everywhere in the Hanged Man. Even this early in the morning as the upstairs rooms were emptying out from the night. Men gossiped about their conquests and the reasons they had the coin to mount such high class mares as the women who typically hung around the tavern. Personally if she'd had it, Hawke would have spent the extra silvers to visit the Blooming Rose. At least the brothel in the Red Lantern District had professionals, and the madame didn't allow any disease. There was a _thorough_ screening that Hawke had gladly skirted when she'd been forced to visit there for Athenril. The view had been nice, but she had been there for business.

Norah brought her tea and breakfast and Hawke dropped the chair legs back to the floor with a thunk. Thanking her, she picked up her toast and dipped it in the yolks of the sunnyside eggs. While she chewed, a few rumors reached her ears about the mage attack on the docks. Her name wasn't mentioned and she breathed a sigh of relief. The exhalation into her tea blew a steamy cloud around her head and she reveled in the sweet smell of berries. Norah had a way with tea that Hawke could never match. She had found a way to infuse the leaves with extract from all sorts of different fruits, giving the tea many different flavors and benefits beyond simply waking her up. This morning there was a hint of raspberry that left a bite on Hawke's tongue as she swallowed.

Hawke looked up from her breakfast as a dwarf made his way down the back stairs. He was alone, unlike most of the men who filtered down, and he carried a crossbow the likes of which Hawke had never seen before. He casually parked himself near the fire, mounds of lightly colored chest hair peeking out from his low collar. He wore his short, dirty blonde hair pulled back from his face and she was surprised to note that he was likely the first dwarf she had ever seen that didn't have a beard. Short stubble lined his cheeks, but she could tell he took great pains to keep it well shorn. With a short calculating glance, he nodded to her and she returned the gesture and went back to her breakfast. A few minutes later, he was joined by two more dwarves. One older with brown hair and a well kept, complexly braided beard, the other a younger man, likely not old enough to grow a beard yet with short blonde hair that was rung tightly in curls on his head.

The first dwarf sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach and talking in a low voice. Hawke curiously listened in when she heard the word Darkspawn. Apparently this dwarf and his brother were looking to mount an expedition into the Deep Roads. With the Blight defeated, they planned to go into the Darkspawn free depths and hunt for treasure. The second dwarf and his son were hiring on as helpful merchants to supply the expedition with goods. Hawke finished her tea in a gulp and left the remnants of her breakfast, tossing a few coppers on the table for Norah. She needed to talk to Carver.

She hurried to Gamlen's hovel and ducked inside to find Carver still asleep. She nudged him with her boot and he groaned, rolling over to glare at her. She nodded toward the door and turned back into the living room herself to wait for him to get up. When he joined her, slipping a tunic over his head and yawning, she took note of the scar on his abdomen from the arrow the previous night. "What do you want at this hour?"

"I may have just found us a job," she announced with a smirk.

 

A few hours later, she and Carver were chasing after an irritated dwarf through Hightown, while he less than politely told them off. "No!" he said gruffly. "Andraste's tits, human! You know how many people want to hire onto this expedition?"

"Look we know you're going into the Deep Roads," Carver said with equal animosity. "You'll need to hire the best and we're..."

"No!" he repeated, stopping near a large dwarven statue in the midst of a group of merchants stalls. He held out his arms and indicated the group of people milling about. "You're too late! Already done!"

"The money from this trip could fix everything! You need us. We've fought Darkspawn!" Carver insisted.

"Look, precious, I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands," he grumbled as Hawke shared a shrug with Carver. She had done just that to the ogre that had killed Bethany.

"You make him understand! We're running from _your_ bloody templars!" Carver said pointing aggressively at the dwarf while he spoke to Hawke.

She rolled her eyes. "My brother has a point. It's on his head, but it's still valid," she snipped, glaring at Carver.

"Oh, thanks for that!" he grunted, crossing his arms.

"So, what about it, Bartrand? We're just what you need," Hawke said smoothly.

"You're looking for a quick way out of the slums, right? You and every other Ferelden in this dump. Find another meal ticket," Bartrand said walking away again and leaving them alone.

"Well, back to waiting for someone to turn us in," Carver said with a sigh.

"You can relax. After all, the templars dogging us are 'mine'," she said grumpily.

Carver balked. "Did I sound that bad? Maker, I'm turning into Gamlen." Hawke turned from him and he fell into step with her. "Gamlen. He's got the head for this garbage. Maybe he can talk to Bartrand. He knows some people. After last night, we need all the coin and influence we can get."

"You catch more flies with honey, but Gamlen's bullshit could work too," she agreed.

"Well, he did get us into the city, right?" Carver shrugged. "What else can we do? We're losing ground, and I don't fancy waking up in the Gallows."

Hawke walked ahead, ready to find her uncle and see if he could do anything, when a tall red haired man bumped into her, splitting between her and Carver. Glancing over her shoulder, she groaned and grabbed at her belt as the man started running. "Hey!" she shouted starting to give chase as he ran off with her coin purse.

He made it around the corner and headed toward the shop stalls. Suddenly, a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder with enough force to spin his body and pin him to the wall. She stopped running and watched as the dwarf from the Hanged Man with the fancy crossbow stepped from the intersection and strolled toward the mugger. "I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pockets just by smiling at you. But you?" he said with a chuckle. "You don't have the style to work Hightown, let alone the Merchant's Guild." He held his hand out and the mugger dropped Hawke's coin purse into his open palm. Then he continued to talk before punching the man and yanking the bolt from his shoulder. "Might want to find yourself a new line of work." The man slumped to his knees, grunting and then gripping his shoulder as he lumbered away. "Off you go." Then the dwarf sauntered over to Hawke, grinning from ear to ear. He tossed her purse back to her and twirled the bolt in his other hand. "How do you do? Verric Tethras, at your service! I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?" she asked skeptically as she returned her purse to her belt and took note of the piercings in his ears and the smart leather jacket he now wore that perfectly matched his brown eyes.

"I would!" he agreed. "What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you. He would never admit it either, he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

"What makes you so certain we can help? You know nothing about us," she pointed out, her eyes narrowing.

"On the contrry... you've made quite the name for yourself over the last year. The Coterie has been squeezing smugglers out left and right, and the only group to survive owes it all to you two. The name 'Hawke' is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat!"

"You must have heard of my brother as well, then," she said with a smirk.

Varric nodded slowly as he sized up Carver. "A little, yes, but it is you they speak most of, messere."

"That figures," Carver grunted.

"Your brother is certainly welcome to join us, by all means, but I'll leave that in your hands," Varric shrugged.

"Oh, I'm going. Without this expedition, we won't last out the year," Carver said defensively.

"You're going awfully far out of your way just to hire another guard," Hawke pointed out again. Something was off.

"We don't need another hireling... we need a partner! The truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this on his own, but he can't do it. Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you," Varric explained.

That was a lot of money. Hawke had never seen that much coin in one place before. "Why would you stick your neck out for a complete stranger?"

Varric snorted. "I'd rather take a chance on someone with your reputation than head into the Deep Roads unprepared. And besides, we'd be your partners. I'm willing to give a little trust if you are."

"I hope there's more to this. Like how I'm supposed to get that much coin together," she mused.

"You need to think big," he said with a wide gesture. "There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with Darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life."

"Come on," Carver urged. "The dwarf makes some sense. No offense. Look, you started this and it's a good idea. Certainly better than ending up in the Gallows."

"We work together, you and I, and before you know it, you'll have all the capital you need. What do you say?" Varric asked, holding out his gloved hand.

Hawke shrugged and accepted his hand shake. "It's not like I had anything better planned."

"Perfect!" he grinned. "Kirkwall's crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job, and you'll have the money in no time!"

"Sure, easy. But..." Carver said, his tone suddenly skeptical now that Hawke had agreed. "Maybe Aveline's got some bounties out. She joined the city guard, right?"

"We should talk privately when you get the chance," Varric offered. "In the Hanged Man, maybe... I'll be there when I'm not with you. Now, let's go see what trouble we can stir up."

 

Hawke had to hand it to her brother. He had a good idea. They stepped under the giant spread winged raven above the door into the Viscount's Keep from the warm sun and Hawke glanced around. She'd never been in the keep before. The building was impressive. Great thick pillars supported the dramatically high ceiling from one end of the entry to the other. Citizens and guards stood about, going about whatever important business they had with the Viscount or the guard. One did not see many Lowtown regulars milling about. Carver cleared his throat beside her, drawing a few stares from some of the more well dressed folks in the area. Hawke smiled widely, challenging them to tell her she didn't belong as she strutted after Varric who seemed to fit in just as well here as he did in the Hanged Man. Up a short flight of stairs, the landing split. To the left were the offices of the Seneschal and the Viscount, as a small gold filigree sign helpfully informed them. To the right were the barracks where the city guard took up residence. If Aveline was not on patrol, they would likely find her there. "Good day, Serah," one of the guards intoned as she passed, casually putting herself ahead of Varric as she climbed the stairs toward the entry to the barracks. She offered his bored tone a mocking salute and grinned before strolling boldly under the archway that led to the stairs down to Aveline's home.

It wasn't hard to find Aveline once they entered the common area. Her red hair stood out starkly among the darker manes of her peers. Hawke moved toward her, garnering a few glances, but no one protested her presence. The key was to look like you belonged, so she walked with purpose, her shoulders back and her chin jutted forward. When she planted herself behind Aveline, she threw her arms out to the sides and said enthusiastically, "Aveline!!"

"Hello, Hawke," Aveline said quietly, not even turning to grace her with a smile while she continued to look over the duty roster that was pinned to the board with an unassuming dagger.

Hawke let out a chuckling hum, crossing her arms mildly insulted. "That's it?"

Aveline turned, a tiny frown creasing her brow under her braided hemp headband. "What?" Then she exhaled a breath as her green eyes scanned over Hawke. "Oh, right. Sorry, it feels like we just talked." She tossed her head to the side and walked out of the way of the roster to lean against the wall, her armor clanking softly. Hawke noted that she was still carrying Wesley's old shield, but her sword had been replaced with one that fit regulations. "I've been keeping an eye on you," she admitted with a shrug. "Information is one of the few perks of this job. Watch out for Bartrand... he's a son of a bitch."

Varric's chuckle was snuffed by a glare from Aveline as she likely wondered why he was with Hawke. Hawke smirked and crossed her arms, mirroring Aveline's casual stance. "A person in your position, seems like they might learn some profitable things," Hawke led, shrugging and remaining aloof as she settled into her hip.

"You know better than to ask that," Aveline said with mild surprise. Circumstance had put them on opposite sides of the law, but Aveline had been good to Hawke and her family, putting up with a lot of Hawke's shit in the last year, turning a blind eye to her shenanigans.

Hawke sighed and said breathily. "One day you'll be frustrated enough to go for it."

Aveline sighed as well, but her exhalation was less amused and more exasperated. "It's like I'm sitting on my hands. There are dangerous people in this city." She paused and glanced away before frowning and allowing her eyes to shift over Hawke and the others again. "In fact, I might have a job for you. Let me know if you want to do a favor for Kirkwall. Otherwise, I'm here if you need me. Maker knows I could use more satisfying work."

Hawke pretended that was not the exact thing she had come fishing for and yawned behind her hand. "All right, Aveline. You have something worth doing?" She looked away and reached her fingers out to caress over the handle of the dagger holding up the roster before bending it and then quickly removing her finger so the dagger made a humming sound as it rocked back and forth.

Aveline rolled her eyes. "My patrols may be empty walks in the dark, but there's something big coming up, and I could use you. An ambush. Probably for a caravan, although I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't matter, though. Highwaymen waiting for someone to rob? I'm putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Hawke shrugged and nodded. Flicking the dagger again. "All right, Aveline. I'll play guard for you."

Aveline smiled, genuinely for the first time since Hawke had showed up in the barracks. "I knew I could count on you. They're hidden up Sundermount. Remote and rough, but we can make good time with a shortcut this side." At Hawke's smirk, Aveline shook her head. "And no, you can't run off and do it without me. I trust you, but I have to be there. You're acting on behalf of the guard."

Hawke feigned a pout and said, "I need to get a few things from home if we're going to be fighting." She winked, indicating the daggers tucked at her hips against the soft leathers and casual open topped tunic she was wearing around the city.

"Take care, Hawke. I'll meet you at the gates," Aveline said half in warning, realizing that Hawke was likely bringing her staff if they were leaving the city.

 

The quickest way to Lowtown from the keep was past the residential district and the Chantry. Hawke made a note to herself as they approached that after her little jaunt to Sundermount, she should check the Chanter's board. Someone always needed help. A debate between a woman in her mid fifties wearing the robes of the Grand Cleric, and a young man in bright white, chain armor draped over light hide, with wavy light brown hair and striking aqua eyes that blended beautifully with his tanned skin, drew Hawke's attention. "Sebastian! Stop this madness!" the woman pleaded as he tacked a very official looking note to the board. "The Chantry cannot condone revenge, Sebastian."

"It is my right, my duty, to show these assassins there is nowhere in the Free Marches to hide!" he returned, his tone deep and emotional as he turned and walked away toward Hawke and her little group.

She stepped aside to let him pass as the Grand Cleric snatched the parchment from the board and flapped it in the air. "This is murder."

He spun, the bow on his back in his hands in seconds and an arrow loosed toward the Grand Cleric. The arrow slammed into the paper and pinned it back to the board. "No. What happened to my family was murder." The way he rolled his r's made Hawke place him as a native of Starkhaven, a neighboring city-state in the Free Marches. She watched him lower his bow and stalk off not even acknowledging her as he passed. The Grand Cleric gaped after him for a moment and then pressed her lips together and waved a dismissive hand as she turned away as well, heading back up the long staircase to the Chantry and leaving the parchment pinned to the board.

Hawke made a beeline for the board, curious what was so controversial to draw the Grand Cleric herself out of the Chantry to argue. She reached up and yanked the note down and read it.

_A grave crime was committed against all free-thinking men and women in the Free Marches. The ruling Vael family in Starkhaven-- My family-- was brutally murdered, down to the youngest babe in arms. This massacre was carried out by members of the Flint Mercenary Company. I hereby offer a bounty on the head of each Flint Company Soldier in the Kirkwall Vicinity._

_Prince Sebastian Vael_

"You know," Varric hummed suggestively. "A bounty put forth by a Prince might make you a hefty bit of coin."

"You may be right," Hawke mused, already mapping out which of her contacts in the underground might have information on Flint Company. She pocketed the note, so no one else could claim it, and returned to the business at hand.

 

When she returned to Gamlen's house, Varric took Carver to the Hanged Man to keep him busy while she gathered her things. She needed her staff, her armor, and a few lyrium potions she had stashed back for emergencies. Gamlen and her mother sat at the shabby table in the living area and they were having a conversation that drew a sigh from Hawke's mouth as Alfie bounded up to greet her. "It's hard to believe they left me nothing," Leandra sighed breathily after sipping some tea from the cleanest mug in the house.

"Well, Mother was pretty steamed when you ran off with your Ferelden apostate," Gamlen sneered, his own mug not nearly as clean and his drink likely not as mild.

A small clink sounded as Leandra set her mug on a saucer and said, "I'm still their daughter. Their eldest."

Hawke drowned out the recurring nightmare of a conversation and moved to fish through a short stack of papers on the writing desk. A letter caught her attention, addressed to her.

_Hawke,_

_Your year is up and you're free to go. Despite what you think, we had a good thing working together. I might pass along an opportunity or two, if you're willing to get your hands dirty. Stay safe._

_Athenril_

Hawke scowled and balled the note up to toss over her shoulder as her mother's voice rose high enough that she could not tune it out. "My children have been in servitude... servitude... for a year. They should be nobility!"

Gamlen's sneer deepened, his upper lip curling back in disgust. "If wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming."

Hawke knelt to undo the laces on her boots so she could change and the snarky comment slipped out as she rolled her eyes. "You mean, this is real? No wonder I can't wake up."

Gamlen turned his ire on her and grumbled to Leandra, "And here I thought that Ferelden you ran off with was a mage, not a jester..." After sighing, he continued. "Your mother was supposed to marry the Comte de Launcet, and instead she ran off with some Ferelden apostate. You don't get to stay the favorite when you do that."

"Where is father's will?" Leandra asked, her fingers tightening around the delicate teacup. "If I could just see for myself..."

Gamlen sighed in disgust. "It's not here, all right! It was read, it went in the vault. No one needed to look at it again."

"That touched a nerve," Hawke said standing and crossing her arms in suspicion. "What's in there that you don't want us to see?"

"Nothing!" Gamlen said a bit too quickly. "But you won't be seeing the bloody thing. It's locked up on the estate. And that's long out of my hands."

"What daft bastard leaves that behind?" Hawke asked, her eyes narrowing as she noticed sweat breaking out on Gamlen's forehead.

"It was old news. You think I've been sitting here for twenty five years waiting for Leandra to slink back?" he growled.

Her mother sighed. "Who bought the estate, Gamlen? Perhaps I could speak to them. Was it the Reinhardts?"

"No one you know," he said, fidgeting in agitation with his mug. "Get used to Lowtown, Sister. That's where we're going to stay."

Hawke grunted and left them to their argument. She needed to get her things so they could meet up with Aveline. Her armor was laid out on the chair where she'd left it the night before and she quickly buckled it on, settling into the strangely comfortable leather and hide. Athenril had gotten it custom made for her, knowing her secret and having someone craft the lightest set of leather armor they could without sacrificing protection. She pulled her hood up over her hair, but did not bother with the mask. They were leaving the city after all. Then she knelt beside a dusty trunk that she hadn't touched since they'd moved in. Inside, beneath a few old tunics was her staff, still disguised as a mace. She pulled it out, closing her eyes as the power thrummed over her skin. She gripped the familiar weight tightly and sighed. It felt good to have it back in her hands. A soft clink sounded as she lifted the staff from it's hiding place and she cocked her head, fishing in the bottom of the chest. Her fingers slid over another familiar power as it pulsed with urgency. She closed her fist around it and pulled the witch's amulet from the chest. When she looked upon it, she felt it react, a sensation that made her think it was pleased to be rediscovered. As long as they were heading to Sundermount, she may as well fulfill her end of the bargain. It had been a year. She was overdue. She slipped the amulet around her neck and stood from her crouch to secure the staff to her belt. Whistling for Alfie to follow, she left the house.

Down the stairs and around to The Hanged Man she trotted, excited to be doing some legal work for a change. Alfie bounded after her, apparently glad to be stretching his legs. He didn't get out nearly as much as he should. Inside the tavern was dim after the bright sun outside, but Hawke had little trouble adjusting as Varric hailed her closer to the hearth. She moved to join them, dropping carelessly into a chair at the table. "I see you decided to bring my dog," Carver said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. His scowl rivaled Gamlen's.

Hawke lifted her legs and dropped her heavy boots on the chair diagonal from her. "Alfie needed a break from the constant bickering," she said with a shrug, grabbing a grape from his plate and popping it in her mouth. "Mother and Gamlen were at it again."

Varric stood and moved to the bar, recognizing this was a conversation for family. "Maker, what a mess," Carver sighed. "I want to make things better for Mother, but some of what Gamlen says... I'm having a hard time hating him. Playing caretaker for someone else's life, stuck in their shadow... that's no way to live." He turned his head and the flames from the fire behind him caught his profile. His expression was bitter.

"And there it is," Hawke said her feet slipping back to land on the floor with a thud as she sat forward.

Carver scoffed and waved his hand. "Look, if you want to join the fight over who lost the most, fine. But I never lived here. Mother even gave me her old key to try and stir something. But I didn't know Grandfather. Finding his will doesn't matter to me."

Hawke spread her arms out and raised her brows. "You want a connection, this is where we'll find it."

Carver snorted and shook his head sharply. "The once mighty Amells? A bunch of slavers are squatting on that dusty glory."

Hawke cocked a brow at the new information. "What have you heard?"

Carver sighed, realizing he had probably said too much. "Uncle's a chatty drunk. He was up to his neck and signed everything over. That's who has the estate." He drummed his fingers on the wooden table and glanced up at her. "Apparently the most extensive wine cellar in Kirkwall is now a slave highway from the Undercity. That's the family legacy."

Hawke smirked. If Carver had the key, maybe they could get in the back. "That sounds like an arrangement that needs to change."

"And what if it does?" he grumbled, his drumming stopping so he could pick at a loose nail. "We still aren't important enough to actually live in the place."

She reached out and patted his fidgety hand. "Baby steps, Carver."

As Varric returned with a round for all of them, Carver pursed his lips. "All right, Sister. If the key works, we'll clear the estate from the Undercity up."

She picked up her mug and tipped it toward him. "To Carver making a good decision," she said with a smirk and then took a deep gulp of the warm drink.

"To my sister being the biggest ass in Kirkwall," he countered.

She shrugged. "That's better than _having_ the biggest ass in Kirkwall... Oh wait... I have you..."

Varric chuckled and clinked his mug against hers. "She got you there, Junior."

Hawke finished her drink and offered Varric some coin to pay for it, but he brushed her off. "I'd say it's high time we made our way to the gates to meet your guard friend."

 

The trek through Lowtown and back up to the city gates in Hightown was pleasant, at least for Hawke. Carver, on the other hand, was being a grouch. Hawke chose to ignore him, taking the opportunity to get a little better acquainted with Varric. He was by far the most laid back dwarf she had ever met. Not that she had met that many dwarves, but they always seemed a bit high strung for her tastes. She briefly entertained the thought of how he might react when he saw her fighting until he glanced down at her staff and a slight grin crossed his face before he said, "So, you went home a rogue and came back a mage. I was wondering if the whispers were true."

"I have no idea what you mean," she said, her own smirk making him chuckle.

"If that's a mace, I'm the King of Orzammar," he said with a snicker. "That armor is not nearly heavy enough for you to be the warrior you're trying to pretend to be. Maybe you should enchant that thing to look a bit more believable. Daggers fit better."

She snorted. "Sorry to disappoint, my liege. I shall deign to look less magey in future." She pulled her cloak over the staff to give herself a bit more cover from any Templar eyes that might be watching.

He shrugged. "I need a business partner who can kill Darkspawn. I don't really care how it gets done."

"Way to be discreet, Sister," Carver grunted, rolling his shoulders in irritation.

"Don't worry, Carver. Everyone is bound to notice your big head and even bigger sword before they notice little old me," she retorted.

As they approached Aveline who was stading in the gateway that led out of the city, Varric said, "There is a lot of sibling animosity here. What's the story?"

"Carver is a bit of a tit," Aveline said pushing away from where she was leaning against the stone gatehouse.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Hawke said with a wispy sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Carver grumbled, falling to the back of the group as they headed out of the city.

The trek across the valley toward the mountains was pleasant. Hawke almost wished she hadn't worn her cloak. Birds sang softly from the trees and the grass had the loamy scent of nature. "I think it might rain," Aveline commented.

Alfie bounded ahead of them to drop down in the grass and roll around happily. "Look what you've done to him," Carver complained as Hawke stooped to pick up a stick and toss it toward the playful dog. "He's supposed to be a war dog."

Hawke chuckled happily as Alfie returned the stick to her, bouncing up and down for her to throw it again. She paused to kneel in front of him and croon. "But he's such a big sweet puppy!" She ruffled his ears and then tossed the stick again, standing to fall back into step with Varric who was chuckling as well.

"You know, I never thought the scourge of the undercity would be a 'play fetch' kind of girl," he mused, with a sideways grin.

"It's also not common knowledge that I am fantastic in bed," she joked, bringing a grunt of distaste from Carver and and eye roll from Aveline.

"Of that I have no doubt, messere, but alas I am spoken for," he pulled his crossbow from his back and petted his palm along the grip. "Bianca is the only woman for me."

Hawke pouted in amusement and then shrugged with a chuckle. "Your loss."

A light breeze picked up, tossing Hawke's hair as Aveline paused at the base of an incline that lifted upwards gently on either side, creating a gully in the road surrounded by high ground. "This is it. There might be some stragglers ahead of the main group. Nothing we can't handle..." She drew her sword and nestled her shield on her forearm before starting ahead again.

Alfie dropped his prize and moved to stand at attention at Hawke's hip. She scratched his ears absently as she followed behind Aveline, her hand on her staff. "You see, Carver. He's a war dog when it matters."

Bianca clicked softly, a well oiled machine preparing for anything as Varric loaded her with several bolts. They moved as quietly as possible with Aveline and Carver's armor both clanging lightly as they moved. Hawke's ears picked up on the gentle sound of falling stones to her left as someone above shifted their weight. She hissed harshly between her teeth and Carver's head spun to glance at her. She flicked her eyes upwards to tell him they had company, just as Alfie began to growl, his front feet spreading into a battle stance, his muscles ready to pounce. With a short flick of her fingers, Hawke's magic spindled through her chest and she laid a barrier down aroud herself and the others.

Within seconds, an arrow whizzed past her and bounced off of the barrier around Carver. She spun back around after watching the arrow's trajectory and caught sight of the sniper standing above them on the ledge. A few more arrows shot from more angles, indicating he was not alone. "They have the advantage," Varric grumbled, unable to get a clear shot from the angle below, even with the scope mounted on Bianca.

"Oh, they really don't," Hawke said swinging her left arm out in front of her in an arc and grabbing her staff to simultaneously charge her chain lightning as she disenchanted the disguise. Twirling the staff between her fingers, she hummed contentedly as the staff gave her the focus she hadn't felt in months. She directed the spell into the butt of the staff and slammed it into the dry ground beneath her feet. The lightning sparked and followed her whim as her eyes pinpointed each target. After the clap and boom of each strike, a few shouts of terror sounded from the cliffs before more heads poked up to flee, abandoning their cover.

"They have a mage!" a voice shouted and she hurled a fireball in the direction she had heard the shout from. A wet gurgle indicated that her spell found it's mark. Shuffling sounds came behind her as one of the bolder highwaymen ran at her, his sword raised. Aveline jumped in, the sword clanging off her shield as he brought it down. Hawke spun away from them to let Aveline finish him off as a few more melted in from the shadows. Carver lifted his greatsword above his head and spun it in a wide arc, lowering it and twisting his body with the momentum to slice two of the attackers in half. Hawke's nose wrinkled before she looked away and began to toss small fireballs from her staff at any remaining enemies. Varric's bolts were much more useful now that the attackers had abandoned their cover and tried to swarm Hawke and take her out even as Alfie carefully fought from her side, staying out of the way of her spellwork.

Within minutes, what was left of their attackers fell and Hawke brushed dust from her armor that had been kicked up by her footwork. "It's a shame you can't find competent bandits now-a-days," she quipped, leaving her staff full size and flipping it so the head pointed down, the magic thrumming up from the ground to find the crystal and hum into her to restore her mana as she walked.

"They could have given us a challenge," Varric agreed, pulling a lever that closed Bianca's arms.

"Because a fight is so very easy from the safety of the back line," Carver taunted, his sour mood even more grumpy now that he was sweating.

"Nobody told you to choose the life of a warrior, Little Brother," she returned, knowing it irked him when she called him that.

"Children, need I remind you that there are still bandits lurking?" Aveline asked.

Carver reached out and lightly punched Hawke's upper arm. "Mooom, Carver hit me!" Hawke chuckled.

Aveline shook her head and rolled her eyes again. "Save it for Leandra."

They made their way through several more forward parties until they hit the main group. "Well that's just rude. What are they trying to do, ruin my boots?" Varric grumbled as he pointed out several lines of tripwires in the area. Hawke danced around the traps as she cast, giving Varric the cover to disable them. Aveline, Carver and Alfie held the rest back until they could fight in earnest without the traps. "We're good to go," Varric announced standing from his crouch and pulling Bianca back into his hands.

When the last bandit fell, Aveline scanned the area while Hawke moved through the fallen, sifting through their coin purses for some extra sovereigns. "Well equipped for bandits," Aveline mused with a soft frown. But dead is dead and the road is clear. Back to the barracks for your just reward." She patted Hawke's shoulder with something like pride and a small smile.

"You go on ahead. I have Dalish to find..." Hawke said pulling the amulet from beneath her armor and allowing it to glisten in the small amount of sun peeking through the cloud cover. "I'll be back in time to collect, don't worry."

Aveline frowned. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with?"

Hawke shrugged. "Your choice. I don't expect it'll be very exciting."

 

Aveline decided to tag along and they made their way deeper into the mountains as the sun got lower. Hawke huddled in her cloak, rethinking her earlier regret at bringing it, while Carver begged Aveline to ask if the guard needed recruits. Carver would make a terrible guard and apparently Aveline knew that, trying to let him down gently. Hawke huffed as he refused to drop the subject, their argument difficult to ignore as their voices bounced off the hills surrounding them. Varric walked beside Hawke, making idle conversation and she quickly decided that she could become very good friends with the dwarf.

As they began to notice signs of a camp in the form of cook fires and Dalish flags planted along the road, Hawke slowed her pace and warily approached the brightly colored landships, knowing the Dalish were not usually keen to accept outsiders into their midst. As expected, they were stopped by a pair of hunters in light leather armor with bows within reach on their backs. "Hold, Shemlen! Your kind are not welcome among the Dalish."

Hawke left her hands in plain view and smiled. "I'm not expecting tea and cakes. I just need to see someone."

"There's nothing here for any human," the one who had addressed her insisted, his large dark eyes narrowed in suspicion as his fingers twitched dangerously close to his bow.

His companion spoke up, her hand falling on his forearm in restraint. "Wait! This is the one the Keeper spoke of."

He frowned at her before looking back at Hawke and flicking his curious eyes up and down her person. "A shemlen? I thought she'd be an elf."

"Enter the camp," the female said with a gentle smile as she stepped aside. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

"Cause trouble, and you'll meet our blades, stranger," the male threatened as Hawke passed him by.

The camp was warm and inviting if you could get past the whispers and sideways glances that followed them through the aravels. There were several cookfires and each aravel seemed dedicated to a single purpose. The clan elves moved through their mobile village as anyone would through the Kirkwall market, trading goods and talking amiably. Near the edge of the camp, an aravel larger than the rest stood at the base of a trail that wound up and around into the mountains. A woman much older than the rest and carrying a staff crafted from Ironbark was hovering over a fire, managing to look much busier than her idle state should allow. Since all Keepers were mages, Hawke approached the thin, white haired woman and spoke cautiously, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was doing. "Marethari?" The woman turned to face her, a glowing smile on her face that did not falter even when she laid eyes on Hawke. Her facial tattoos were more intricate than Hawke had ever seen, swirling in patterns over her entire face. The golden color of the tattoos melded beautifully with her yellow-green eyes and she had designed her robes to also match the gold, brown and green of her surroundings. "I was told to bring you this amulet."

Hawke pulled the amulet from around her neck and held it out to the Keeper as the woman cocked her head, still smiling. "Andaran atish'an, travelers. Indeed I am Keeper Marethari." She reached to take the amulet from Hawke and glanced at it only briefly before stepping closer to Hawke and making eye contact. "Let me look at you." She reached out with the same hand that still held the amulet and took a light hold of Hawke's. After a brief moment where Hawke felt a gentle caress of mana, she said. "There is a light in your heart, human. Don't let it go out. You will need it." Even as ominous as her words sounded, Hawke's heart fluttered with a feeling of peace as the elf continued to smile at her. "Tell me how this burden fell to you, child."

Hawke shrugged and with her usual sarcastic tone, she said, "A dragon fell from the sky, charred some Darkspawn, then asked me to bring you this amulet. No big deal."

At the words Dragon and Darkspawn, Varric's ears perked up and he glanced at Hawke with mild surprise and fascination. She owed him a tale.

"You are blessed by luck, then." Marethari said with a small chuckle. "I will pray that Mythal watches over your path." She handed the amulet back to Hawke and patted her hand. "The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain, and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then return the amulet to me. Do this, and your debt will be repaid."

Hawke placed the amulet back around her neck and cocked her head. "Are you going to teach me this rite for the departed?" Hawke knew nothing of Dalish traditions.

"I will send my First with you. She will see to it the ritual is done," Marethari said with a nod. "And when it is complete, I must ask that you take her with you when you go."

"That seems a little odd," Hawke pointed out as the Keeper's smile faded to be replaced with a sorrowful look.

"It..." she sighed heavily. "Is her wish, and I must grant it. You'll find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain. Dareth shiral." She closed her eyes and hung her head, indicating that Hawke should follow the path upwards.

With one last frown at the strange request, Hawke shrugged. She liked new friends. She strolled past the Keeper and started up the hill to find Merrill. They found the dark headed young elf sitting alone on the ground a little ways up the path. She had her back to them and as she heard them approaching, she put away whatever she had been playing with, her back hunched as she poured over the object with interest. She stood and turned, giving Hawke a better look at her. She was a thin wisp of a girl, like most elves, and she wore an elven crafted super lightweight full body chain armor covered with a simple green two piece hauberk and topped with a yellow scarf and fur pauldrons. She smiled widely, her cheeks slightly red. Hawke had no time to figure out if it was because of the wind that was ruffling her thin braids or because she was embarassed before the girl began babbling in a high, accented voice. "Oh! I didn't hear. You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth ara." Her cheeks flushed redder and she glanced away, her light green eyes not as pronounced as when she looked directly at you, but giving Hawke a better look at her tattoos. They were not as intricate as the Keeper's, and reminded Hawke of roots beneath her eyes and on her forehead of antlers. Between the antlers, her forehead wrinkled. "I'm so sorry, I didn't ask your name. Unless... it's not rude to ask a human their name, is it?" Hawke blinked at her slowly and shook her head but before she could speak, the elf continued. "I'm Merrill. Which you probably knew already. I'm rambling, sorry."

Hawke chuckled. "You'll have to work harder than that to offend me. My name's Hawke." She tried to remember the last time she'd actually been offended. A long time ago that had been.

"Thank you," Merrill wrung her hands nervously. "I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind." She seemed to calm a little as she babbled, so Hawke let her go, enjoying the challenge of keeping up. "The Keeper said you came from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. We only came north a few years ago. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

"I miss the cold. And the dirt. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me. But hey, no Darkspawn!" Hawke said wistfully.

"Ferelden wasn't that brown! The dirt and muck gave it character," Merrill said with a sweet smile. "We should go. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

"Let's get this over with," Hawke agreed, glancing up at the hike ahead of them. She pulled out her staff and began using it as a walking stick as the trudged up the mountain.

"Ach!" Varric complained as he slipped for the third time. "Who in Andraste's name made the ground vertical?"

Hawke chuckled but before she could return with a snarky comment, dirt shifted beneath her feet and she stumbled. A deep rumbling sound came from below and something grabbed onto her ankle. She batted the grasping fingers away with her staff and shuddered as several undead clawed their way from beneath the ground all around them.The touch of mana seeped over Hawke's skin and she glanced to her side to see that Merrill was casting without a staff. Hawke had not expected the girl was a mage, although if she was First to the Keeper, it made a sort of sense. She began to cast her own spells, her fire particularly effective against the walking skeletons. When the last one fell, she leaned on her staff and grinned at Merrill. "The Keeper didn't mention you were a mage."

"All Keepers know a bit of old magic," Merrill admitted without shame. "The stories tell us that all elvhen once had the gift, but like so many things, it was lost." She glanced down at the ground with sadness. The same sadness that most Dalish had for the loss of their people's culture. "It's a Keeper's job to remember, to restore what we can."

Hawke straightened her back, glad to have another mage with them even if her magic felt odd when it sloughed over Hawke's skin. "Please keep turning skeletons into toads for us."

Merrill frowned. "But I never... Right, not literally. Happy to help," she said, the frown flipping into another sweet smile. "I've done a little fighting before, but it was always alone. I'll try not to hit anyone. On our side, I mean. I'm babbling again. Let's go."

Merrill scurried upwards and with an amused shake of her head, Hawke followed. They ran into a few more groups of walking skeletons that pushed their way up through the daisies and attacked them before they crested the incline onto a short reprieve from the climb. Hawke saw the way ahead was blocked by a landslide of rocks guarded by a lone Dalish hunter who scowled as they approached. "So the Keeper finally found someone to take you from here," he growled at Merrill.

She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Yes."

His eyes fell on Hawke and she crossed her arms, not appreciating his tone in the slightest. "Then finish your task quickly, human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon."

"I'm sensing a story here," Varric mumbled as Merrill flushed in anger, her fists balling.

"I have made my choice. And I will save our clan, whatever you think," she said to the elf as he pushed past them to head back down the mountain. Then Merrill sighed.

Hawke fidgeted. Varric was right, but she wasn't certain any of this was her business. It felt like a family squabble. "Sundermount seems very... mountainous today, doesn't it? Lots of... rock. And hillside." Hawke desperately tried to change the subject.

"I'm sorry," Merrill said, cocking her head to the side. "I didn't mean to... Let's go. We should hurry." She led them past the blocked path to a small cave that apparently led under the mountain to where they needed to go. She paused at a road marker and sighed again. "I'm sorry," she apologized again, not turning to look at Hawke just yet. "You're not really seeing the Dalish at their best." She turned and the sadness nearly made Hawke take a step back. "We're good people that look out for each other. Just not today, apparently."

"But the Dalish are delightful!" Hawke said emphatically. "I was just thinking of inviting the whole clan over for tea." Aveline groaned softly.

"I'm sure they'd never accept an... Oh. Right. Sarcasm." Merrill said as Hawke nodded with a smirk. "Even if my people don't appreciate my efforts, I must see this through... Let's go. Asha'bellanar isn't known for her patience."

They passed into the cave and Hawke tapped her staff on the ground to helpfully spread a dim glow of light for them to see by. The ceiling was tall and that almost always meant giant spiders. Hawke sighed and followed after Merrill who seemed to know her way. The cavern they were in narrowed to a small tunnel that led down a short man made staircase to another opening that widened into another large cavern. Hawke was almost convinced they were going to make it through without incident when the ground ahead of her rumbled, the dirt shifting. "More corpses," she warned to those who might not be getting the best source of light from her staff. Then she groaned as a hissing sounded over head to join the rumble of the dirt. "And spiders..."

They easily dispached the shambling annoyances and Merrill led them out of the cave and back into the evening. From their vantage point on the mountain, the sunset was gorgeous, painting the whole horizon with pink and purple as the orange of the sun fought to remain against the blue. Hawke took a moment to drink it in, the crisp wind tossing her hair wildly, as Merrill stepped up to a magical barrier that blocked the way ahead to an elven burial ground. The sudden draw of magic in the air around them pulled Hawke's eyes from the sunset as Merrill pulled a knife from her belt and cut a gash in her palm. Hawke cringed, her gut clenching as she felt the touch of the fade as it surrounded Merrill along with the swirling mixture of blood and mana. Alfie growled softly. Merrill released the power into the barrier and it came down. Carver swallowed audibly and stepped up beside Hawke. "Right. That was not normal." He'd certainly seen her and Bethany and even their father perform enough magic over the years to know that.

" _That_ was blood magic," Hawke accused, wondering how the seemingly innocent young elf had gotten herself involved with demons.

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it?" Merrill said nervously as she wrapped a small cloth around her bloodied hand.

Hawke's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "Sure, demons are very helpful!" she said enthusiastically, the sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster."

"Well... yes," Merrill agreed as if she had never thought of that particular scenario. "But that won't happen... I know how to defend myself." She sighed softly and lowered her eyes. "Be careful ahead. Restless things prowl the heights." She slowly stepped past the fallen barrier and Hawke followed closely. Merrill indicated the large stones and small piles of rock and offering jars along the sides of the path as they walked. "In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenera. The endless dream, they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

Hawke could feel the whispers of the dead all around as they passed through the foggy dip in the mountain. It brought a chill to her and she pulled her cloak a bit more tightly around her shoulders. Merrill approached an altar at the edge of the path, overlooking the rest of the mountains and the amulet around Hawke's neck sang in resonance with the area. Before Merrill could ask for it, a figure began to manifest before the altar. It stood 8 feet tall. Correction. _Hovered_ 8 feet tall, it's long billowing robes temporarily obscuring that small fact. Magic hummed around the creature and Hawke gritted her teeth as she realized why they had been dealing with so many walking corpses on their way up the mountain. "That's a bloody Arcane Horror," she hissed as the fog swirled around her feet and the dead began to rise all around them. A crossbow bolt whizzed past her and smacked uselessly into the altar as the Horror teleported itself out of Varric's shot. Hawke spun, trying to locate where it had flitted off to while Carver and Aveline were set upon by the shambling corpses that were continuously popping up from the dirt. The amulet was starting to become more hassle than it was worth.

Merrill stood quietly beside Hawke, her palms ready to dispense the spell she had conjured as soon as the Horror showed itself again. Hawke's staff spun, a comforting weight in her left hand, as she mumbled curses under her breath. Then she felt it to her right. She whipped around, jabbing the top of her staff forward and unleashing the fireball she had readied, adjusting her footwork around Alfie who had placed himself protectively at her side. Merrill's spell fired off and Hawke took a moment to be impressed as several roots and vines jutted from the ground and grabbed hold of the Horror to hold it in place. It shrieked as thorns ripped into the skin that was already burning under Hawke's fire. Merrill knelt, drawing the roots with her and jerking the Horror into a crouch. It's bones and muscles snapped and tore under the pressure and Hawke's lip curled back at the sound. Dalish magic was certainly powerful. Hawke's crackle of lightning drowned out the noises as it snapped across the field, taking out not only the Horror, but a few of the corpses that were still swarming all around.

When the Horror fell, the air seemed to clear and Hawke found breathing that much easier as some of the fog receeded from the cliff. The rest of the corpses under the Horror's influence fell dead again, some of the more skeletal ones breaking apart and the bones skittering and rolling in all directions as they fell midstride. Hawke snorted as Carver dodged out of the way of a skull rolling toward him and Merrill sighed. "There, I think it's safe. Place the amulet on the altar and I'll begin the Rite." Hawke holstered her staff and pulled the amulet from around her neck. When she approached the altar, it was as if the amulet reached for the stone with it's own consciousness. Hawke shuddered and set it down, backing away to let Merrill close. There was a soft pull of mana and Merrill began to recite some Dalish in a low reverent humming voice. "Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas souver'anan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas."

As soon as her words ended, a bright flash of magic ignited the darkened sky and Hawke squinted her eyes, unwilling to blink and look away, but the light almost too bright. Her arm lifted to shield her eyes as the light began to take on a shape. At first it was massive before it twisted around itself and coalesced into a familiar shape. Hawke gaped as Flemeth appeared before them, standing plain as day in front of the altar. "Ahh," she sighed, her yellow eyes closing as she took in a breath of the mountain air. "And here we are."

Merrill bowed low, her voice still holding the reverent hum. "Andaran atish'an, Asha'bellanar."

Flemeth frowned as she watched Merrill dip so low that her small braids fell forward from the rest of her short hair. "One of the people. I see. So young and bright. Do you know who I am, beyond that title?"

"I know only a little," Merrill admitted sadly, still bent at the waist, her eyes averted.

"Then stand," Flemeth offered, her soft tone dragging Merrill straight. "The people bend their knee too quickly." Her gaze shifted to Hawke who had watched the entire exchange in mild shock. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket," she said with a sharp titter.

Hawke crossed her arms, a little miffed that Flemeth had used her as cheap transportation. "No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because it had a witch inside?"

"Just a piece," Flemeth agreed, her voice wispy as she mused. "A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

Hawke didn't care for details. She had kept her word, but was curious none the less. "You have plans I take it?"

"Destiny awaits us both, dear girl," Flemeth said with a small smile. "We have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice?" She turned to dramatically look over the cliff, the train on her armor flapping lightly in the breeze. "We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap." She turned back to regard Hawke with narrowed eyes. "It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

Hawke snorted, the dramatic show not impressing her in the least. Destiny wasn't something she put her faith in. "Cheap advice from a dragon."

Flemeth pursed her lips. "We all have our challenges."

"Are we going to regret bringing her here?" Carver asked, his tone conveying the fear that they had unleashed some great evil.

Hawke glanced at her brother who's eyes were just a bit wider than usual, but before she could reassure him, Flemeth took the burden from her. "Regret is something I know well," she admitted almost sadly. "Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me." Flemeth then returned her heavy gaze on Merrill. "As for you, child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

Merrill balked slightly before nodding her head. "Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar."

"Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks... and my sympathy," Flemeth said to Hawke, turning her blood to ice as her tone filled with warning. Without another glance, she turned and her magic filled the air again as she transformed. Her great wings spread and the force of the wind made Hawke take a step back as she launched her Dragon form from the cliff, rumbling the ground beneath them. Merrill gasped and chased the flying dragon as far as she could before she stepped off the cliff, her mouth gaping.

Hawke watched her disappear into the distance, her words bouncing around in her head. Destiny was not a thing. No one could know the future. So why did Flemeth's words make Hawke's stomach twist into knots? She sighed finally and turned to head back down the mountain. The Hanged Man had never sounded like a better idea, but first, she needed to speak with the Keeper.

The walk down the mountain was blissfully free of corpses now that they had dealt with the Horror. Merrill scurried on ahead to gather her things so she could return to the city with them. Hawke was already planning the logistics of getting her settled, glad to occupy her mind with something other than the ominous words of the witch. Marethari greeted them as they left the mountain path and entered the camp. "Ma serrannas, child. Your debt is paid in full," she said with a smile as Merrill approached them with a satchel and a staff. Hawke bit her lip. The girl obviously did not need the staff. Why would she bring it to Kirkwall? She'd wind up in the Gallows in less than a day. "It isn't too late to change your mind, da'len," the Keeper said to Merrill.

Merrill hung her head, unable to look the elder woman in the face. "Dareth shiral, Keeper." Without another word to the Keeper, she turned to Hawke. "I'm ready. Let's depart."

Hawke nodded slowly and bade the Keeper farewell before heading for the shortest path back to Kirkwall. Merrill walked silently beside her, the staff sticking out from beneath her cloak like a beacon. Hawke stopped mid stride and held a hand out in front of Merrill. "Before we get back to the city, you're going to want to look a bit less conspicuous." She took the girl's staff from her back and called her own mana, shrinking it down so it looked like nothing more than a twig. Alfie licked his lips at the sight of the stick and she shooed him off, handing it back to Merrill. "I'll teach you that trick later, but for now, don't fiddle with it."

Merrill giggled lightly. "Where did you learn that? It is elven magic..."

"It is?" Hawke asked, her tone slipping uncharacteristically into shock. "My father taught me."

"Then he must have known some Dalish," Merrill shrugged and began to bounce off down the trail, all trace of her sadness at leaving her clan gone. Hawke smirked. There was something about Merrill. In spite of witnessing her blatantly using blood magic, Hawke couldn't help but like her.

Varric sidled up beside Hawke as she followed after Merrill. "You know, Daisy is going to need a place to stay when we get back to the city."

"I have a few contacts in the Undercity who can help us get her a place in the Alienage," Hawke said, having already set her mind to task on their way down the mountain. "She _will_ need a place tonight though. Do you think the Hanged Man will have a vacancy?"

"Don't worry, Hawke. I'll make it happen," Varric assured her with a pat to her elbow.

 


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke becomes accustomed to her new friends and Gamlen's deception is revealed.

With the late hour when they returned to the city, Aveline left them before they hit Lowtown, saying Hawke could come by in the morning to talk to the Guard Captain about her reward. Outside the Hanged Man, Carver also left to head home and get washed up. He had aquired quite a bit of dirt and grime as they fought through the mountains. She sent Alfie with him and she, Varric, and Merrill made their way inside the tavern.

There was a commotion brewing if the atmosphere had anything to say about it. Hawke glanced toward the bar and noticed a dusky skinned woman with black hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. She was dressed in little more than a plain white hauberk with a set of vambraces on both arms and an offset pauldron that protected her left shoulder. She made up for the lack of any noticeable pants with a pair of brown boots that reached a touch higher than her mid thighs. A blue sash was cinched around her waist and a bandanna rode her hair, leaving wisps to fall down around her well formed face. All around her neck and dangling from her ears was gaudy gold jewelry. Hawke stood mesmerized as the woman was surrounded by several men in mercenary gear. The one closest to her leaned his elbow in the bar as she casually took a sip of her drink. "You owe us, Isabela," he growled.

Not even deigning to glance at him, her feet parted slightly and Hawke recognized her taking a fighting stance. "Well, Lucky, I'll tell you what..." she purred in an accent that could only have come from Rivain. "Since the information you gave me was worth nothing..." She downed what was left in her cup and picked up a bottle to refill it. "that's what I'll pay you."

She moved to lift the cup and drink, but the man's hand fell on top of the cup, slamming it back onto the bar. Hawke could see the eyeroll in her shoulders and the tip of her head without seeing her face. "Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch!" he snarled threateningly.

She turned to face him, a flirtatious smirk on her face that screamed danger the closer her lips got to his. "Oh, you poor, sweet thing," she said and Hawke found herself gently moving Merrill behind her and Varric.

Isabela grabbed hold of Lucky's wrist where he had laid it on the bar beside the abandoned drink and pulled it around her, throwing him off balance. Her other arm came up faster that Hawke knew possible and palmed his head to slam it into the bar twice. When she released him, he groaned, his nose bloody, and his people reacted. One grabbed Isabela around the waist, pinning her arms and lifting her off her feet. She wriggled with a grunt of effort, trying to get free and when that didn't work, she launched her head forward and then rammed it back again, knocking her captor senseless. He dropped her and she ducked the glass bottle being swung toward her face by another assailant and he accidentally hit his friend who was still reeling from the headbutt. She took the opportunity while he was off balance to swing first with her right and then her left, punching him twice before grabbing hold of his arm, kneeing him in the gut and then elbowing him in the nose. Behind her, Lucky had recovered from having his face bashed into the bar and he was drawing his sword. Isabela had twin daggers on her back, the hilts protruding from specialized holsters. She drew the one with her left hand, her right upraised to hover near the second as she held the loose blade to Lucky's neck, freezing him in place, his eyes wide.

"Tell me, Lucky... Is this worth dying for?" she asked, her voice husky. As he vehemently shook his head and let go of his sword, she moved him away from the bar, the threat of a slit throat all too real. She lowered her arm and holstered the free dagger as Lucky ran off and the man she had headbutted helped the third to his feet and dragged him off as well. She leaned casually on the bar, smirking as she reached to pick up her drink again and down it quickly before mumbling to herself, "I didn't think so," with a heady chuckle. The position offered Hawke a much better look at her as she adjusted her bodice where her generous breasts had nearly fallen from their place. She offered Hawke a wink as she caught her staring. Her smirk was accented with a golden post that pierced the skin beneath her thick bottom lip. Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief and Hawke found herself grinning back. She almost forgot her other companions as she approached the woman at the nodded invite. "You're new around here, aren't you?" she purred as Hawke stood before her. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

"Speaking from experience, are we?" Hawke asked with a smirk, her hands landing on her hips, as her eyes lingered on Isabela's ample bosom before slipping downwards to her barely covered hips and naked thighs that peeked out of her boots. She took note of the thin straps of her small clothes that rode Isabela's hips, purposefuly on display.

A sensual chuckle fell from her lips and Isabela said, "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea." She dipped into a half bow, flourishing her hands out to her sides. "I'm Isabela. Previously, 'Captain' Isabela. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow..." Her eyes did their own skirt of Hawke's person and she smiled. "You're Ferelden, aren't you? You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago." With another sweeping glance she tapped her lips with a finger. "You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have."

Hawke sighed, her flirtatious smirk still plastered on her face. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?" she asked breathily.

Isabela shrugged. "Must be something in the water... Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel. If I win, he leaves me alone, but I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back." She said, worry lacing her voice.

Hawke nodded in understanding. "I think I could manage watching your back," she said, quite aware of the double entendre she was creating with her tone.

Isabela chuckled lightly, "I'll bet." She pushed away from the bar and walked toward Hawke slowly, nearly brushing against her as she passed to head upstairs. "I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown tomorrow after dark. I'll meet you there."

Hawke watched Isabela's curves sway all of the way up the stairs before Varric cleared his throat. She flicked her eyes to him and he said with a grin, "I've worked things out with Edwina so Daisy can spend the night here."

"Thanks, Varric," she said, noticing that Merrill had already been led off to her room. "I'm going to stick around for a bit and make sure she doesn't get into any trouble. Want a drink?"

He chuckled. "I never turn down a free drink." He led her upstairs to his room. It was the largest in the place, complete with a dining table and living space outside the bedroom. Norah brought them some ales and Hawke made herself comfortable, propping her feet up on the closest chair to hers while he took Bianca from his back and set her carefully in a velvet lined box. "So, I've been dying to know," he said conversationally. "What was going through your head when you fought that ogre?"

She had shared a few tales from their escape as they walked earlier in the day, but the details had been a bit thin when it came to the ogre that had killed Bethany. She snorted into her ale and took a sip before setting the mug down on the table beside her. "For the first few seconds, 'What do they feed those things'?"

He laughed out loud and sat across from her, picking up his own drink. "I don't know anyone else that's even seen one. You're lucky just to be standing here. Somehow, Hawke, I imagine things won't be dull with you around. Not that I expect the Deep Roads to be boring, mind you. Constant threat of doom does tend to keep you awake."

She scoffed as he sipped his drink. "A lot of things can keep you awake, you know... I wouldn't reach for the doom first."

He shrugged. "Sure, I could have a cup of tea in the morning, but I hear it's bad for you. I've spent my whole life in Kirkwall. Dangerous enough, most days, but it doesn't compare to the Deep Roads. So, this will be... let's just call it, 'an adventure', I guess."

"Great, now we're adventurers..." she said with a smirk around the rim of her mug. She finished off her ale, suddenly realizing she barely knew a thing about him. She had done most of the talking earlier. "If we'll be working together, I should find out more about you." She opened the floor for him to spin her his story.

Another shrug. "You're in luck! I am always willing to talk about myself to beautiful women." He made the compliment casually as if it were simply a statement of fact rather than a flirt. "My family came from Orzammar... Noble House Tethras... until my father got caught fixing Provings. He and our whole house got exiled. No huge loss. I was born up here. Sunshine suits me just fine."

Hawke nodded and cocked her head. "Are you a merchant? A mercenary?"

He shook his head. "I'm a younger son. It's a difficult and dangerous profession. A lot of us die of boredom. Fortunately being Bartrand's younger brother keeps me on my toes. Maker knows he lacks subtlety. I'm the one who pulls strings to keep the coterie out of our hair... keep us just a whisker ahead of the other families."

Varric made her wish her own younger brother was as accepting of his place in the family. She also now realized why Varric had known who she was and how he had known so much about her before they even met. It was nearing the hour that the contacts she would need, to secure Merrill a home in the alienage, would be scurrying from their holes. Glancing into her empty mug, she fished in her purse and tossed the coin for the drinks on his table. "I need to visit some people," she said with a sigh standing and stretching so her vertebrae popped audibly back into place.

"Take care Hawke. I'll keep an eye on Daisy for you," he said tipping his mug to her in thanks for the drink.

 

Hawke woke the next morning in her bunk, one leg dangling down over Carver as he snored beneath her. She smirked and threw her thin blanket off so she could hop to the floor, thumping her feet near his head. He groaned and reached out to swat his arm at her as she gathered her street clothes and her daggers. With a chuckle, she said, "I'm heading to gather up Merrill and get her settled, then I'm going to see Aveline. You could make yourself useful and talk to Brade about that Prince's bounty. I'm thinking of taking Mother's key to the Amell cellars this afternoon. Are you interested in tagging along?"

"Why can't you talk to Brade?" he complained, his face still buried in his pillow.

She nudged him with her foot and when he glanced at her, his eyes still half closed, she smiled. "Because Brade is a pervert and I don't feel like being leered at just to get some information on a band of mercenaries."

He rolled his eyes and put his face back in his pillow. "But you have no qualms with doing your own leering when it suits you."

Hawke remembered back to her blatant flirtations with the Rivaini pirate goddess the night before and smirked. "Only if they are worth leering at. Brade is not." She laced her boots over her soft hide pants and buckled her sleeveless leather hauberk on over her loose tunic. "Are you coming to the cellars?"

She absently passed over the daggers that she had originally planned to take with her and found herself securing her concealed staff to her belt. He grunted and mumbled, "Fine. But I'm not talking to Brade. Handle it yourself."

She sighed and rolled her own eyes before kicking his mattress and stalking from the room. No one else was up and she left Alfie for Carver to deal with if he was going to be an ass. Outside, the air was warm but damp. She slowly made her way to the Hanged Man, checking her pockets to be certain she had the address for Merrill's place still on her. She opened the creaky wooden door and stepped into the familiar morning stillness of the bar. "The usual, Hawke?" Norah called from behind the bar.

"Just tea," she ammended her order, not very hungry. Norah brought her drink and set it down with a smile before leaving to tend to another customer. This morning instead of raspberries, Hawke could smell the faint aroma of peppermint and she inhaled deeply before taking a very satisfying sip.

It wasn't long before Varric made his way down to the common room with Merrill close behind, glancing around as if she were seeing the place for the first time. "It's so much quieter in the morning," she commented in awe. "And nobody's getting shivved."

Hawke smiled and took another sip of tea as they joined her at her table. "You'll be pleased to know that I was able to find you a place for next to nothing with a charming view of the harbor," Hawke said to Merrill as the pretty elf glanced all around, trying to take everything in at once.

"Oh, that's nice. You're so nice, Hawke," Merrill grinned, her large eyes finally giving up on the room and falling on Hawke.

Hawke sat a bit straighter. "Oh, I haven't been called nice in years. I must be going soft."

"I told you that drinking tea in the morning was bad for you," Varric said with a chuckle as he indicated her mug.

They headed out together after Varric bought Merrill breakfast and Hawke led them past her own hovel through a back street and down the stairs into the alienage. The door to Merrill's house looked ready to fall off it's hinges and Hawke cringed as Merrill looked around the plaza her head cocked and already looking a bit homesick. Some obscene graffiti was splattered on the wall around the side of the house near a sewer grate and Hawke tipped her head to get a better view of the image. After chuckling, she wiped the smile off her face and Merrill turned to her. "Elgar'nan..." she whispered softly. "Is this... Is this really where the elves live?"

Hawke cringed again as a rat scurried along the wall and squished itself under the door into Merrill's house. She felt bad that she couldn't find something better for the poor girl. "Not the prettiest part of Kirkwall, but it doesn't have a view of the giant chains. Take what you can get," Varric said with a sympathetic shrug.

Several early risers were already out in the street setting up their shops along the edges of the plaza and Merrill glanced around again. "I didn't think it would be so... so... I've never seen so many people in one place before. It seems so lonely."

"Working your way up will be fun!" Hawke said with mild enthusiasm, then she sighed and hung her head. "All right, that was a lie. It won't be fun."

Merrill laughed softly in self deprication. "Some adventurer I am. Barely set out, and I'm already daunted." She approached Hawke and smiled sweetly. "Thank you for everything. For all your help... Will you come visit me? Not now, of course. But maybe later? I could use a friend."

Hawke's heart melted and she returned the smile as Merrill wrung her hands. "Of course. But only because you used that 'you kicked my puppy' voice."

"Thank you. I'm thanking you too much, aren't I? I mean it though..." Merrill babbled as Hawke handed her the key to her new house. She took the key and turned away, her mood unreadable as she slipped inside the rickety door and cosed it behind her, leaving Hawke alone with Varric beneath the Vhenadhal tree.

 

"You complained about the mountains being steep yesterday, but this is ridiculous," Hawke sighed as they made their way all of the way from the bottom of Lowtown to the top of the stairs into the Viscount's Keep to see Aveline and get paid for stopping the bandits along the mountain path.

"I'm lucky. The city was built by dwarves. I don't need to take the stairs two at a time," Varric chuckled as he strolled beside her, completely unphased by the hundreds of stairs they had climbed.

"I knew I should have been born a dwarf," she remarked rolling her eyes as she crested the final step.

"If you had, messere, Bianca may have had competition," he mused with a chuckle.

Inside the Keep, the guards and nobles seemed to be just waking up. Hawke made her way to the barracks where Aveline was waiting for her. "Good morning, Hawke," she said with a grin. Then she pointed to a closed door to her right. "There's Jeven's office. Wait while I explain our initiative."

Hawke nodded and propped herself against the wall just outside the door to rest her calves. Later, in a less public setting, she would be slipping herself some healing magic to ease her burning muscles. After Aveline went inside, the voices were muffled for a minute before the ass chewing began. "I don't know how they do it where you're from, Guardswoman, but I decide the patrols. Not you and your whim!" a man shouted angrily. "You may have been put up for lieutenant in your first year, but I'll have no show offs in my command! Have I made myself clear? Report to your post before I have you and your Ferelden accomplice jailed!"

Aveline came storming out of the office, her face red with anger. She slammed the door behind her and her fists clenched as she made it halfway to the duty roster before she stopped mid stride and growled. Hawke pushed away from the wall and moved to stand beside her. "Well, what a charming fellow."

"I don't have to like him, but he could at least listen," Aveline murmured, turning to face Hawke, her face still flushed. "Bandits are dead, that's all that should matter." She sighed heavily, her green eyes falling to the floor. "It's not the first time he's made me wonder like this. Something is very wrong."

Hawke smirked. "This is probably a bad time to discuss my bill with him."

Aveline offered her a small smile. "He'll jail you. I don't doubt that. The rest, though... Well, the duty roster will have my next patrol. Sounds like I'll have plenty of time to follow you around..." As she took the few steps toward the roster board, she mumbled to herself. "Threaten my friends... not letting that one go, Captain."

She flipped through the assignments as Hawke waited, putting off having to find Brade. Another guard approached, a smile on her face. She was pretty enough as guards went, with short blonde hair and bright eyes. "Aveline!" she called. There was gratitude in her voice and Hawke perked up. I owe you for clearing that ambush last night. Saved me a mess of trouble."

"Brennan," Aveline said in way of greeting. "That route was yours?"

"It was," she agreed with a nod. "Single patrol. I'd have been dead for sure."

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," Hawke said, inserting herself into the conversation.

"Shouldn't need to be," Brennan said, not even questioning why Hawke was there. "That route was clear for weeks. First noise out of it was your big fight. The Captain reassigned me after he heard what you did, and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

"The satchel?" Hawke asked with a frown.

"Pay and order assignments. Captain has us run deliveries to the outposts during light duty. It's usually just an updated copy of the roster. The satchel for that night was heavy, though," Brennan said thoughtfully. "Anyway, thanks again, Aveline. You're a good one."

Brennan walked off, still smiling and Aveline's frown joined Hawke's. "So the satchel gets heavy the same day we discover an ambush."

Hawke shrugged. "I bet there's a perfecty reasonable lie that explains why your Captain arranged this."

"I'd be willing to hear it," Aveline said with an exasperated shake of her head. "But not while a guard may be walking into a trap." She turned back to the rosters and started to flip through the papers again. "Brennan said Donnic... a good man. Donnic... Donnic... I've got his route. A midnight walk in Lowtown. Let's go make sure his quiet patrol stays that way."

"I'll meet you there. I have a few things to take care of today," Hawke said tossing a thumb over her shoulder.

"Did you need a hand?" Aveline asked, checking her own patrol and sighing.

"Not unless you want to glare at a pervert while I menacingly persuade him to get me information about a group of mercenaries. Although, I think Varric and Bianca can properly defend my honor if it needs it," Hawke said wistfully. "I also have some light breaking and entering planned for the afternoon, and maybe a little murder for dusk. I lead an exciting life."

"Those are the kinds of things you should probably keep to yourself, Hawke," Aveline scolded, crossing her arms over her chest and making her armor clank softly. "Get out of here before I decide you're not worth it."

Hawke chuckled. "I'm definitely worth it," she said with a wave as she backed out of the barracks and Aveline shook her head with a smirk.

 

Hawke left Brade with a number of locations where Flint Company had been operating throughout Kirkwall and the surrounding areas. It seemed another trek outside the city was warranted, but not today. Today, she picked up Carver, Varric still tagging along and headed into the bowels of the city. Darktown was a none too popular tourist spot, but the less fortunate refugees and poor of Kirkwall always seemed to end up there. It was made up of a collection of abandoned mining tunnels and the sewers of the city. Old, rusted, industrial equipment and ramshackle lift systems were scattered all around, giving the area any number of holes to hide in if one needed to. There were a few Coterie barkers selling off stolen goods, an expert alchemist here and there that would sell you poison for cheap, and any number of sick and injured beggars piled up along the edges. The smell was something Hawke would never get used to. Piss, shit, unwashed bodies, death, and a hint of sea water. She wore her mask pulled tightly over her face, leaving only her eyes for anyone to see. Her hair did a fine job of obscuring anything that her hood didn't as they moved discreetly through the soiled streets.

Operating within the city left her little option if she got into a fight, so she kept her usually rude mouth shut and tossed some coppers at the hands that reached out for her coin. She had left her staff swinging from her hip, but had also picked up her daggers which she had tucked against her hips. The extra firepower, no pun intended, from her staff was a comforting weight as it banged against her thigh every other step. Hawke kept her eyes on everything around her, taking in the scenery. She felt bad for the folks who genuinely had no where else to go. It made her that much more grateful to her rat of an uncle for taking them in. This could have been her mother.

"Well, here it is," she said as they approached an old dilapidated door that had been boarded over from the outside.

"If the cellars reach this far down, maybe we really were important," Carver mused as Hawke gave a tug to one of the boards.

She moved closer to Carver and whispered. "I can use my magic to rip these off, but it will draw attention if a skinny little rogue like me does it all by her lonesome. Let's put those rippling biceps of yours to work, shall we?" she teased, moving back to the doorway and taking hold of the top board. Carver grunted at her comment, his lip curling back, before he took hold of the other side of the board. After glancing around, Hawke summoned her mana and they both tugged on the board. With her help, it easily sprung free of it's nails and clattered to the ground when they dropped it. Three more stood in their way before Hawke could even slip the key into the lock and test if it still worked. A satisfying click made her grin beneath her mask and she pushed the door open to step into the musty darkness.

Varric closed the door behind them and Hawke heard the tell tale clack of him drawing Bianca and loading his bolts. It was quickly becoming a sound that she enjoyed hearing at her back. The smell of Darktown was replaced by damp wood and musty old furniture. Hawke pulled out her staff, drawing it to full size and calling a dim light to the tip so they could see where they were going. Boxes and crates were stacked all around, untouched by anyone in what must have been years. She cracked one open and pulled out a tall glass bottle, blowing the dust from the label. Carver picked up a second bottle and used his hand to clear the dust. "I suppose slavers would have no use for all of this wine."

Hawke carefully returned the vintage bottle and moved forward through the maze of crates. The entire basement was full of much the same. Outside of the bottom floor, they started to see signs of life. Torches blazed from sconces mounted on pillars around each room, negating the need for Hawke to keep her light on. She pulled the mana back into herself and spindled it close to the surface. Signs of life typically meant life, and she didn't want to be caught off guard. Voices drew her close to the wall in a pool of shadow so she could get a better look. She had all afternoon to wait them out. That was until Carver bumbled up behind her, not seeing the small tripwire. The second his foot crossed the line, Varric grabbed him and pulled him back to avoid the flashy explosion that gave away their presence to the two men that were in the next room. Hawke pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, drawing a shrug from his shoulders as he grabbed his sword from his back. She summoned her least flashy spells, hoping not to draw more attention. The physical magic thrummed from her staff, shooting small fist sized blasts of kinetic energy that hit like a Bronto.

More slavers poured in from the upper levels and Hawke sighed, realizing that they were ousted. She decided to bring in the big guns. Delving deep into her reserves, she called a firestorm. Massive boulder sized balls of fire rained down on the gathering men. Hawke erected a barrier that contained the blazes as Varric watched in awe. When the men were dead, she drew the barrier tightly around them, snuffing the mage fire and negating any potential for accidental arson. "Maker's Breath, Hawke, you do get results, don't you?" Varric said, his tone shocked.

She shrugged and smirked under her mask. "Show off," Carver grunted, strapping his sword back in place.

"Check their bodies. I'm certain there's coin to be had," Hawke suggested, heading for the closest charred corpse and thanking the Maker she had worn gloves.

They were attacked a few more times along the way as Hawke allowed Varric to go first, his keen eyes watching for hidden traps. The slavers had known about the Darktown entrance and had apparently prepared for someone like them to someday find their way in. Hawke took her time through the basement, enjoying the peek into her family's past. Among the endless crates of wine, she discovered a few letters by a man named Tobrius that linked to the Circle from after her father had escaped. They also found a few of the old Amell crests stacked in a corner and gathering dust.

When the last room in the basement was cleared, they found a key on a Tevinter mage that had apparently been the leader of the merry band. The key led them up into the vault where they found the prize they had been searching for. Hawke skimmed the pages of her grandfather's will and felt her blood boiling hotter and hotter as they made their way back out through the basement. She gathered herself as she passed through Darktown, swallowing the hot rage and calming her magic as it threatened to break the surface. Varric nudged her calmly as she passed a few idle beggars and drew stares from them. "Hey, Chuckles. Your mage is showing."

She balked and realized that she had forgotten to shrink her staff in her rush to confront her uncle. Her eyes widened and she was grateful that Varric had the presence of mind not to call her by her name. "Shit," she cursed, rounding a corner and finding a quiet place to remedy her mistake. "Fucking Gamlen," she mumbled as Carver stood as a curtain, his body blocking the view of her shrinking her staff. Carver seemed unaffected by it all. He cared nothing for the history of the Amells or the fact that Gamlen had swindled them. She took a moment to wonder if he might do the same to her in Gamlen's shoes and her anger flared again. "Come on. Let's get back to Mother."

Varric left them at their door, heading for the Hanged Man and Hawke stomped up the stairs and inside where Gamlen was arguing with Leandra yet again. "...so I'm just saying, blood's blood and all, but you are taking advantage of my hospitality... It's only fair if you make something of a... monthly contribution."

Leandra frowned and took a step back. Her voice raised in anger. "You sold my children into servitude! Now you're asking me to pay rent?"

Hawke stepped up beside her mother as Gamlen stuttered. "Er... maybe just put something towards food..."

Hawke swallowed a bark of laughter. "You should be paying us, Uncle... We found the will."

Carver joined them as well, taking the scroll from the pocket he'd stored it in. Gamlen took a nervous step backward. "Grandfather left everything to Mother and us." Carver handed the scroll to Leandra and turned a convincing glare on Gamlen. "I guess he had some sense after all. See for yourself."

Gamlen stuttered again, glancing around and realizing he was trapped in his own home. "Er...ah, I should... maybe..."

Leandra took the scroll with shaky hands and unfurled it to read aloud. " 'To my daughter Leandra, and all children born of her... The estate in Hightown and all associated revenues'..."

Hawke crossed her arms as her mother glanced up in shock at her brother. "Check out the part where Gamlen is left only a stipend... to be controlled by you..."

"Gamlen, how could you?" Leandra said softly as her eyes skimmed the rest of the will.

Gamlen pointed angrily at Leandra. "You're the one who ran away, Leandra. What happened to 'love is so much more important than money'?" he sneered.

"It _is_!" Leandra insisted, her voice catching.

"You didn't even come home for the funeral!" He accused.

"The twins were a week old!" Leandra argued.

"We all have our burdens. Mine was looking after a life you abandoned. How long was I supposed to wait?" he asked, venom in his tone.

"I doubt you let the ashes get cold," Hawke interjected.

Gamlen's ire moved to her and he narrowed his eyes as Alfie moved to place himself between them and bark at Gamlen. "I took care of Father! I stayed. And on his deathbed, all he could talk about was Leandra!" With Alfie barking, Gamlen turned and moved away before sighing and turning back to Leandra. "Look, Sister, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, but I did. And there's nothing I can do to get it back..."

Leandra sighed. "I don't expect that, Gamlen. It's enough to know Mother and Father didn't die angry... I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll have your 'house' back within weeks." Her lip curled as she glanced around the hovel.

Gamlen pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount," he grumbled. "You've got to _be_ someone in this city to live in that house again."

Leandra smirked. "Well, then I had better get started." She walked off with determination in the set of her shoulders, clutching the will to her chest. Gamlen frowned in anger at Hawke and shook his head.

She returned the frown and brushed past him to talk to her mother as Carver sullenly made his way into the bedroom. Leandra glanced up from the fire and smiled gently. "When I told your grandmother I was marrying your father, she threatened to disown me. She said my children would be mongrels." Hawke felt her lip curl back as Leandra continued. "My father wanted to lock me in, but she told him, 'It's her life, let her ruin it'. I wrote to her when each of you were born. She never wrote back. I'm glad she didn't die hating me."

Hawke continued to scowl. She'd never known her grandparents, but they sounded like people she couldn't be bothered with. "Your mother's dead. Let it go," she said, a little more bitterly than she had intended.

Leandra knew her well enough to simply sigh and look away, not hurt by the snide advice. "When I was a girl, your grandmother was the young, beautiful, noble mother all my friends wished they had. She might have had a hard time accepting it at first, but she would have loved you. All three of you." She hung her head. "Oh, Bethany... she was such a sweet little girl." Hawke braced herself for the inevitable blame that talk of Bethany brought down on her. "Never cried... just looked at you with those big eyes." Leandra hugged herself.

"Bethany would want you to move on, Mother," Hawke insisted, wishing she could take it all back. "Be happy about what we have."

Leandra sobbed softly. "I just keep thinking there's something we could have done. It's killing me. I... I remember that awful creature reaching down and... Eighteen years of loving and feeding and raising and... that was it."

Hawke sighed. "At least your past the, 'it's all your fault', thing," she said, uncrossing her arms and feeling her uncaring mask slipping over any feelings she might show. She missed Bethany, but being blamed was tiresome.

Leandra glanced at her, the tears sparkling in her eyes catching the firelight as her eyes widened in realization. "I'm sorry, love. I was... distraught. I never really believed that. It's just... I... I miss her." She sighed and turned to Hawke, her arms dropping to her sides. "There were four of us when the Blight began. It will never be over while there are just three. I'll write to the Viscount and try to get an audience. I couldn't do anything for Bethany, but with luck, I can at least give us a home." She hugged Hawke and then gently rubbed her palm down her cheek, thumbing some dirt from it as she smiled, her tears forgotten. Hawke returned the smile and backed away to leave her to her writing.

She followed Carver's retreat to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. "Hello, _Lord_ Carver," she snarked as he sat sullenly on the edge of his bunk. She dropped into a chair and took her staff from her belt to store it safely in the trunk beside her before tossing her knees over the arm of the chair and lounging, her legs swaying casually to a beat that didn't exist.

"We're still a long way from cowing templars with our titles, Sister," he sneered, glancing up at her.

She rolled her eyes. "You could slap on a smile for a few days. For _her_ sake," she tossed her head toward the common room and Mother.

He shook his head slightly. "She's not interested in what I think. She wants to provide for us and you're making sure it happens... And when we're done, I don't know. I guess we'll sit around thinking about how great we used to be?" He shrugged and sat a bit straighter. "Mother didn't even want that life back until we got dumped here. And you only care because we're under templar scrutiny."

Hawke dropped her feet back to the floor noisily and glared. "You hating everything I do is really losing its charm."

"Sure, make light. Why take anything seriously? You're the eldest, you lead by default," he grumbled.

"I don't see you taking the reins," she accused, leaning her forearms on her parted knees and leaning forward with a shrug.

"When should I do that?" he asked angrily. "When I'm following you around, or when I'm caring for Mother while you tame mighty Kirkwall? Besides, we both know what happens when someone leaves dear sister's protection. I'm sure Bethany would appreciate that you're keeping good humor."

Her anger flared again. How dare he. "Poor you," Hawke pouted, standing to step into his personal space as small sparks danced from her fingertips. "Too busy hiding in my shadow to escape from it."

He looked away briefly in shame and then turned back to stand over her, his height outdoing hers and pushing her back a step lest they collide. "I am not a joke!"

"No!" she agreed, jabbing one of her electrified fingers into his chest. "You're a lazy brat with a chip on his shoulder!" His eyes narrowed again as he rubbed over the spot on his chest she had shocked. Then he glanced away in earnest, his inner struggle playing out over his face. She shook her head and turned away, moving from his space. "Well, good talk." she said, her voice wispy with sarcasm as she took the door handle in her hand to leave.

"Marian," he called after her, his tone unreadable. She refused to face him, but her shoulders slumped and she opened her ears, staring at her own hand. "I feel... I don't know. It's like Mother, taking everything out on us. She was just scared. I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back... I'm here if you need me, but I must find my own way."

With his confession settling on her shoulders, she wrenched the door open and wrapped her emotions in a knot that manifested in her gut. She slammed the door closed behind her and stormed through the common room to get away. Something drew her through Kirkwall's streets to a place she rarely went. The Gallows courtyard was packed with all types. Some of the folks meandering around were fresh off their boats and browsing the Tranquil wares. Others were native Kirkwallers out to get a gander at the mages who were given time each day to get some fresh air and wander the courtyard. Then there were the templars, diligently watching over everything and everyone. Hawke tried to act casual, blending in with the crowds to wander around and clear her head of the argument.

She began to calm, avoiding the Tranquil as best she could. It was heartwrenching to look upon the blank stares topped with Chantry brands on their foreheads. Mages who had been effectively neutered. Nothing scared Hawke more than Tranquility. It sucked everything you were from you and turned you into a living, breathing, empty vessel, with no emotion, and no purpose. There was not much that she loved aside from her family, but to never have the chance because her magic was ripped from her... She shuddered at the thought, hugging herself. Suddenly, she felt eyes on her. She glanced around, trying to remain unnoticed by anyone, but searching for the source of scrutiny. Her eyes fell on an older man with graying hair that peeked from beneath a hood. His robes marked him as a mage of the Circle and he was staring intently at her face. He beckoned her closer and curiosity drew her to him. "I know your face," he said with a kind smile. "I am Tobrius." the name had so recently been brought to her attention that she remembered the letters from the basement immediately. Life and it's coincidences never ceased to amaze. "You are a Hawke. I remember your father. Malcolm was a good man."

She glanced at him in surprise that he had so easily placed her lineage. "My father must have left quite an impression. The letter I found was ancient," she said with a stuttering chuckle.

He nodded once, his smile still present. "I needn't tell his own child how special he was. As to the letter, it pained me to send news of the templar's death."

"The templar?" Hawke asked in shock.

"He allowed your father to leave Kirkwall. 'Rule is not served by caging the best of us.' A wise man," Tobrius said sadly.

"Sounds like he didn't quite understand the job," Hawke said jokingly, still absorbing the information. She had known that her father had fled the circle, but not that he had help from the inside.

"Doubt can serve the faithful, even as it vexes them. I fear this has been lost," he said shaking his head. Then he glanced around and noted that they had not drawn attention to themselves as they talked. "I will fetch the letters I held. It seems fitting that they return to family." Hawke waited when he disappeared inside the Gallows, finding an inconspicuous spot to stand idly so she didn't stick out like a sore thumb. She began to get nervous after he hadn't returned in fifteen minutes. She considered leaving but finally he reappeared and slowly strolled toward where she waited. Making certain again that no one was watching, he passed a stack of weathered parchment wrapped together with twine into her hands. She recognized her father's handwriting and her heart began to thump faster. "Such a friendship," he commented as she traced a finger over the script. "Few like your father remain. Even fewer like the templar. Rest well at the Maker's side, Ser Maurevar Carver." Hawke's eyes widened and she glanced up at Tobrius. He didn't understand her enthusiasm at the mention of the templar's name. He left before she could thank him, wary of being caught passing letters. It didn't take much for Knight-Commander Meredith to enforce the brand it was rumored.

Hawke left the Gallows just as quickly to find a quiet spot to read over the letters penned by her father. Carver needed to know about this, but she wanted to read them first. She headed for the Hanged Man, pulling up a seat in the corner near the fire. She had hours still until Isabela needed her in Hightown and she made use of the time, reading every word with rapture. When she finished the final letter, she was smiling, her argument with Carver all but forgotten. She rushed from the tavern and around the corner to Gamlen's. Inside, she found Carver with Alfie, trying to get him to respond to Butcher again. With a roll of her eyes, she approached him. "Here, I got you something."

He stood and took the papers from her without looking at them. A suspicious frown narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

She snorted and cocked her head. "I'm not 'holding you back' with generosity. Just have a look."

Still suspicious, he glanced down at the letters, his eyes scanning over the script for a moment before he said, "These are by Father? Are you sure they aren't meant for you? I bet another mage could get more out of them." She shook her head and took the letters back from him to flip through them and find the one he should read. Handing them back she pointed out where he should start. He began to read aloud. " 'For your service that cannot be admitted, I ask that you accept this trinket, and know that I shall respect your name. Thank you, conscience of the Order, Ser Maurevar Carver...' " He glanced up in shock. "Carver?!"

She nodded and grinned. "The templar who allowed Father to leave Kirkwall. Your namesake."

"A templar?" he said with a frown, the letters dropping to his side as he followed her to the table where she sat down and crossed her arms. "Have we met a templar who isn't a colossal prig?"

She snorted and reached out to punch his bicep. "Well, there you go then."

"I wonder how it compares to yours," he said snidely, setting the letters on the table.

She flapped a dismissive hand. "I'm sure someone thought far too long about my name. Point is, this was a swordsman." She tapped a finger on the letters.

Carver glanced down at the letters and turned one to him so he could read aloud again. "A man who let him look ahead. It would always mean 'skill thoughtfully applied'." He sighed and glanced at her. "Not exactly 'Master of all Blades', but... Father actually thought there was worth to a swordsman... Thank you, Marian. It's... a connection I didn't think was there."

She patted the hand he had laid flat on the table. "Did you want to come with me tonight?"

"You have something planned?" he asked, gathering up the letters and handing them back to her. She stood and took them to her chest where she had left her staff. Gently replacing the staff with the letters, she hung the staff from her belt.

"I need to lend a hand to a new..." she cleared her throat and smirked. "friend? Then I am going to play guard with Aveline again. I was thinking of asking Merrill along, get her out of that house for a bit."

"You think it's a good idea to let her loose on the streets? She's a blood mage," Carver said warily.

Hawke scoffed. "She's not a blood mage. She used blood magic. There is a difference." She couldn't bring herself to call the soft spoken, sweet, little elf a blood mage. She was far too naive.

With a sigh, he picked up his sword and hitched it to his back. "Lead the way, Sister."

 


	4. How to Win Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke meets some truly special people in Kirkwall.

Hawke had collected Merrill and Varric, grabbed a quick bite and then headed to Hightown. It was just after dark, and the streets were deserted. She headed toward the open air courtyard before the Viscount's Keep stairs and was ready to wander around the streets looking for Isabela when she spotted her standing stiffly between the stairs and the entry into the old Amell estate. She approached her carefully, making sure to make enough noise so the dangerous woman knew they were there. She had seen her in action in the Hanged Man. She certainly didn't want to startle her.

Isabela turned around at the noise and let out a soft sigh. "There you are." She started pacing back and forth in front of Hawke, fidgeting. "I've been here for hours. Hayder hasn't shown up. No one has. I don't like this."

Varric grunted. " 'I don't like this?' That's right up there with, 'What could possibly go wrong'?"

No sooner had he voiced his concern, a new voice entered the conversation. "That's the wench we're looking for. Gut her!"

Isabela's daggers were in her hands before the woman had even finished her threat. Hawke reacted, foregoing her daggers and her staff to erect a barrier over Isabela as the group attacked. Then she called her lightning, the snapping bolts noisily dropping three of the attackers. Isabela moved like the wind, Hawke barely able to keep her eyes on the bright white of her hauberk as she nipped in and out of the shadows to backstab the foes closest to her. A few bolts made their way into the fray from Varric, but Carver and Merrill kept back. Too many cooks in the kitchen as it were.

When the immediate threat was taken care of, Isabela knelt to search the woman who had shouted and paid no heed to Hawke's blatant use of magic as she drew her barrier back. "Hiding in the Chantry and sending thugs to finish me off? Coward!" Isabela growled, standing from her crouch and balling up a note in her fist before tossing it back at the dead woman. "He'll not get away with this. Come on."

Hawke was drawn into step beside Isabela and they headed for the Chantry. A few more of Hayder's thugs waylaid them in front of the Chantry, but they took them out easily enough. Inside, the man himself waited. He stood near the base of the altar, several armed men and women at his back. Isabela walked with purpose, tension in her well formed muscles. Hawke lingered behind, enjoying the view again as Isabela's hips twitched angrily. "Isabela. Should have known you'd find me here," Hayder said, sounding none too impressed that she was still alive. From Hawke's vague knowledge, he sounded Antivan.

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time," Isabela scoffed, pausing a good distance from him and crossing her arms.

"Castillon was heartbroken when he heard about the shipwreck. You should have let him know you survived," Hayder said with a tsk.

"Must have slipped my mind," Isabela retorted with a shrug.

Hayder chuckled and then his tone flipped serious in an instant. "Where's the relic?"

"I lost it. Castillon's just going to have to do without," Isabela informed him, her tone wavering.

"Lost it?" Hayder barked. "Just like you 'lost' a ship full of valuable cargo?"

Isabela's temper flared. "They weren't cargo, Hayder, they were people!" she shouted, her fists balling as she jerked a step forward.

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head, and you let them scurry off into the wilds," he accused. "And now the relic's gone, too. Castillon won't be happy to hear that, I promise you."

Hawke snickered as her own arms crossed and she found her confidence in Isabela's character soaring. "Castillon isn't a very happy person, is he? Maybe he needs a new hobby."

"There's only one way to settle this," Isabela said regretfully. Faster than light, there was a dagger in her hand and then it wasn't. It flew end over end and planted itself in Hayder's right hand woman. The woman fell dead and the fight was on.

Isabela and Hawke both singled out Hayder, but after her first fireball distracted him, Isabela easily slipped behind him and slit his throat to the bone. He fell dead and Hawke started in on crowd control as more raiders swarmed in from all over the Chantry. She heard a grunt from behind her and her attention was drawn to Carver as he dodged out of the way of a rogue who had hit him from the shadows. Hawke spun and grabbed the assailant with her spirit arm and threw him away from Carver. Her brother was bleeding, but he waved her off, going back to swinging his sword in broad arcs before him. She turned her attention back to her side of the fight and another swordsman was heading for her. She swung her staff like a club and it smacked with a meaty thunk into the side of his head. Spinning the blood from the head, she charged one final chain lightning to finish off the reeling men who Merrill had cast an entropic horror spell on.

"Stab first, ask questions later?" Hawke chuckled as she shrunk her staff back down to size and put it away.

Isabela approached her, her formerly pristine white clothes stained red. Even through the blood, she managed to look damned good as she grinned at Hawke. "Trust me, it's better this way. Castillon won't hear about me from Hayder, but he'll find me eventually. I just have to get him the relic. It's simple as that," she shrugged.

"Did you end up in Kirkwall because your ship was destroyed?" Hawke asked gently as Carver moved up beside her. She reached out, not taking her eyes from Isabela and took hold of his arm to siphon some healing magic into him.

"There was a storm," Isabela said softly, all hint of her husky, flirtatious tone gone. "The ship ran aground on the reefs near the city. I managed to make it to shore. Most of my men weren't as lucky. Poor sods. I knew some of those men almost ten years. Ah... balls..." she cursed, clearing her throat and wiping the emotion from her expression.

"If getting the relic gets Castillon off your back, then I'll help you retrieve it," Hawke offered, not even certain how she might go about doing that.

"I still don't know where it is," Isabela admitted. "But you'll be the first to know if I hear anything." Her smile turned grateful. "Anyway, thanks for helping me out with Hayder... I think I'll tag along for a while. There might be something I could do for you." Her eyes slipped up and down Hawke's body and she smirked before gliding past. "And I have a room at the Hanged Man if you're looking for... company later."

Hawke turned to watch her leave and bit her bottom lip between her teeth. "Sweet Maker, where did you find her?" Carver asked, his lip curled back.

"Hush," Hawke scolded, turning her grin on him as Varric chuckled. "Like you're not impressed."

"She certainly has a _lot_ to look at," he admitted. "But that isn't really my type." His eyes flicked briefly to Merrill. In spite of his obvious distrust of her magical choices, he seemed to be crushing on her.

Hawke sighed. "Anyway, we should go meet up with Aveline. Carver, I think you should go home. The four of us can handle it. You were injured."

He grunted and when she crossed her arms and cocked her hips, he rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Sister."

 

Lowtown was much less quiet than Hightown had been. Hawke had been hearing whispers in the undercity of a new gang that had moved in to the district, and on their way to Aveline, they met several groups of the Sharps Highwaymen. She was able to scare most of them off by just being herself. Her daggers took care of the ones who wanted to fight. No need to raise suspicion and lead the templars to her doorstep if it wasn't necessary. She had already used more than enough magic in the Chantry. She wasn't even certain why she was still carrying her staff. It was a dangerous idea. There had been a reason she had put it away in the first place.

Aveline was waiting in the Foundry district and nodded casually as Hawke approached. "Where's Carver?" she asked with curiosity.

"I gave him the night off. He took the sharp end of a dagger earlier tonight," she explained.

"But he's all right?" Aveline asked. At Hawke's reassuring nod, she spoke again. "Donnic should be around here somewhere. We should hurry. The streets are restless tonight."

They started a circuit, poking their heads in and out of alleys until they came upon a single terrified guardsman fending off at least seven bandits. Aveline rushed in with a shout just as the guard was knocked from his feet with a blow to the head. Hawke followed on Aveline's heels, unleashing a few crackling bolts of lightning to thin the herd for Aveline's charge. One of the bandits grabbed a shoulder bag from the ground and attempted to flee. Hawke hastily erected a crushing prison around the man, stopping him in his tracks and choking the life from him. The rest of the bandits went down to either Merrill or Varric as Aveline finished off her third.

Aveline then rushed to the guard's side and helped the dazed man to his feet. He was average in every way from his brown hair and eyes to his clear skin and fierce sideburns, but when he fumbled with his words, his breath heavy and said, "Who... Ave... Aveline? You're a beautiful sight," her friend's cheeks flushed and she grinned vapidly, patting his arm.

"Guardsman?" she asked, her voice mildly breathy. Hawke knelt by the satchel that the bandit had attempted to run off with and shook her head smirking.

"I mean," he stuttered. "I was on patrol, and they came out of nowhere. I took a few down, but there were too many at once." Aveline wiped the grin off her face and turned away from him toward where Hawke was fishing through the damning evidence. "The Captain said this route was supposed to be quiet."

Merrill hovered over Hawke's shouder and gasped. "The seal of the Viscount. Office details, city accounts."

"Valuable to a guild of thieves," Hawke said, gathering the papers up and slipping them back in the satchel.

"A sacrificial delivery with one of our own," Aveline growled balling her fists. "Captain Jeven will answer."

"Selling out his own... forget Guard Captain, this man needs to be in Government," Hawke quipped with a grin.

"Not now, Hawke," Aveline scolded with a roll of her eyes. "Jeven needs to see how justice works. This goes to the office of the Viscount. This will be known." As Aveline took Donnic under her wing to help him back to the barracks, Hawke hefted the satchel. "The Captain likes his thieves so much, let's see if they welcome him in prison."

Hawke turned to Varric and Merrill. "I'm going to follow them back to the Keep. Varric could you make sure Merrill gets home safe?"

Merrill glanced around and seemed to realize theat she was lost. "Oh, yes, I don't think I know where I am."

"Come on, Daisy," Varric said waving his hand for her to follow as he set off toward the Alienage. "Remind me to buy you a ball of yarn."

Hawke jogged to catch up with Aveline and Donnic. After the trouble he'd put her through in the last few days, it would be satisfying to watch as Jeven was taken down.

 

Aveline presented her evidence to Seneschal Bran. He was a thin, gangly man with red hair even brighter than Aveline's own and a very serious resting expression. Almost immediately after he hurried off to see the Viscount, the guards were descending on the disgruntled Captain. Hawke and Aveline stood side by side in his office, both with their arms crossed and satisfied grins on their faces. "How dare you!" Jeven shouted, yanking his arm away from the guards holding him. "I am Guard Captain! I won't be treated like this!" They got him under control and Senescal Bran came to stand beside Aveline and watch the show as well while he was dragged off. "Ferelden bitch! This was none of your affair! I'll see you hanged! Quartered! This will not stand!"

When he was dragged out of sight, Bran turned to Aveline. "We found a number of debts to... suspect peoples. Such poor character." He shook his head in disbelief. "But you, Aveline Vallen, have proven your loyalty and ability."

"The guard deserves better than him, messere," Aveline said humbly, her eyes low and her hands clasped behind her back.

"Indeed. The Viscount would have you put your care for the men into direct practice. You will assume the Captain's job," Bran said with a smile and nod that surprised Hawke. She didn't think he could smile around the sour set of his lips.

Aveline's next word was stolen directly from Hawke's mouth before she could speak it. "What?!"

Bran let out a soft chuckle. "In due time, of course. There will be training, approvals. Months, at least... But who better to rebuild respect than the woman who exposed this... embarrassment." Aveline glanced at Hawke and smiled proudly. "Resolve any outstanding business, Guardswoman. You will be very busy."

Bran then turned on his heel and left with a final congratulatory nod. Aveline's smile faded to a gaping look of shock, her jaw slack, as she turned to face the desk that was now hers. Hawke was happy for her friend. She was exactly where she belonged. With a pat to the shoulder, Hawke left Aveline to absorb the news. It was late and Hawke had had a very long day.

On her walk home, she considered taking Isabela up on her offer, but instead decided to give it some time. She barely knew the woman. She pulled her mask up over her face that she had let fall after the fight in the alley and hugged herself against the chill in the air. It seemed like winter was slowly rearing it's ugly head.

 

Over the next few months, Hawke did a few odd jobs here and there, amidst treking out to the mountains and the coast to whittle down Flint Company for the Prince of Starkhaven. She had put her name out there on the Chanter's Board, garnering a few notes at her residence from folks who needed someone to find something they had misplaced. It was starting to bore her.

One afternoon when she came home from one of her fetch jobs, there was a letter waiting for her from Athenril. Curious in spite of herself, she broke the seal and began to read.

_Hawke,_

_You might be interested in something that's come up. A contact of mine, a fellow by the name of Anso, is asking around for someone competent regarding a job, and I suggested you. He's always paid well, so if I were you, I'd check into it before someone else snaps it up. He said he'll be in the Lowtown Bazaar at night._

_Athenril_

Hawke sighed, hoping it wasn't some sort of set up. It would be just like Athenril to wait this long and let Hawke get complacent before she struck. The words 'he's always paid well' jumped out at Hawke. If she didn't do something soon, Bartrand's expedition would leave without her. She tossed the note in the fire and decided it couldn't hurt to at least meet with Anso, backed by a few friends.

Carver agreed and Hawke knew Varric had nothing better to do, so she meandered her way over to the Alienage to visit with Merrill. It had been some time since she'd needed her at her back, but Hawke was attempting to avoid Isabela as much as possible. The temptation was too great when she sat across from her drinking and playing Wicked Grace to not make a fool out of herself. Isabela flirted with just about anything that moved, reminding Hawke very much of herself, and she knew from experience that most of the banter and flirtations were to be taken with a grain of salt. Merrill was the safer choice.

She knocked on Merrill's slanted door and when the girl answered, her already big eyes widened in shock at seeing Hawke. "I didn't think you'd come! I'll find something relatively clean for you to sit on," she fussed, ushering Hawke inside. She rushed to the small table just inside the front door near the fireplace and cleared some books that were stacked on one of the chairs and then brushed it off. She held out her hand and flushed as Hawke dropped into the chair, conjuring a cloud of dust. "Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have... water..." she said, her excitement dwindling.

Hawke grinned. She lived in her own crusty hovel. Merrill had no need to be embarrassed. She watched a rat scurry along the wall and dart into the adjoining room. Merrill had, in her short time in Kirkwall, obtained quite a few scrolls and books. They were scattered about the small room, weighing down the rickety furniture. "It's... cozy. And your furry friends are charming."

Merrill groaned. "Ohh, are the rats back? I thought I found all their holes." She sat in the chair across the table and rested her chin in her palms, elbows on the table. "I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, but I'm making a mess of it."

"I'm not sure thanks applies to this. Not without a lot of irony, anyway," Hawke quipped.

"It's not... pretty, but this is where I need to be," Merrill said with determination. "I haven't exactly had many friends. Not even among my own clan. This is... tricky."

"What made you unpopular with the Dalish?" Hawke asked, relaxing back into the chair and folding her hands over her stomach.

"Being First to the Keeper, I was always... a bit secluded." She reached down and ran her fingers over an elven tome in front of her on the table. "I studied magic and history while the others were learning the Vir'Tanadhal. It's good that I left. I'd have made a terrible Keeper. I was never that good with people."

Hawke scoffed, flapping a hand. "It won't take long before you're the most popular girl in the alienage," she said with a chuckle.

Merrill's head shot backwards. "Mythal, I hope not! I'd manage to say something stupid in front of everyone and embarrass myself." She glanced away momentarily, her gentle smile fading before she pasted it back on. "Thank you for coming to visit me, Hawke. It... means a lot to me."

"Well then, you're in luck. Not only am I here to visit, but I may be taking you out for the evening... if you want to tag along, that is," Hawke said, sitting forward and tapping her fingers on the table.

"Ooh, will there be fighting? Should I bring my staff?" Merrill asked in excitement.

"Sure, but I'd leave it concealed for now. As far as I know, I'm only talking to a contact of Athenril's," Hawke said standing as Merrill did the same.

The girl scurried into her bedroom and came back with the twig in her hand and gathered her cloak. "I'm ready. Lead the way. I still can't seem to find my way around." They stepped out into the brisk air and Merrill chuckled. "This city is amazing! Do you know I saw someone get mugged. Just there. It was fascinating!" she said pointing as the tips of her ears began to redden in the wind. "Everything happens here all at once! How does anyone keep it all straight?"

Hawke chuckled, her brow rising in question. "Someone is jumped outside your door and that's exciting?"

Merril frowned slightly, her own brow crinkling in thought. "It must be the Alienage greeting. Hasn't happened to me yet, though. They must not like me." She sighed and they continued walking, hitting the stairs out of the Alienage that used to be blocked off by a large metal gate if the hinges were any indication. It had likely been torn down and melted for scrap long ago. "It's so busy here. So many things just get... lost."

"Do you miss the Dalish?" Hawke asked as the homesick look passed over Merrill's face again.

"I miss Hahren Paivel's stories. The creaking of the aravels in the breeze," she huddled further into her cloak, pulling the hood up around her ears. "The city is so busy and confusing. And the elves here are not like my clan. But I'll get used to Kirkwall in time." She shrugged.

Hawke remembered feeling much the same when they had first arrived. The bustling city was such a change from sleepy Lothering. "Think of it like a game!" she suggested. "You can pick up all the things people drop and overlook. Maybe count them."

Merrill giggled sweetly. "I think they mostly drop garbage. I'm glad you brought me out. I needed someone to talk to."

Hawke bumped her shoulder as they walked side by side. "How about some dinner before we head out. The others are joining me at the Hanged Man."

"That sounds lovely. Will Isabela be there? She's teaching me how to play cards. I'm awful at bluffing. I always get so flustered and she said my ears blush. Do my ears blush?" Merrill rambled as she and Hawke passed by Gamlen's house. Carver was exiting the house and he fell into step beside them.

"Yes, Merrill. Your ears definitely blush," he said, color reaching his own cheeks as he talked to her.

"Maybe I'll wear a hat next time," she said, oblivious to Carver's awkward glance.

They entered the Hanged Man and Hawke moved through the afternoon crowd to get to her usual seat. She kept her feet on the floor to make room for Merrill and Carver to sit. Isabela was predictably perched at the bar and she tossed a wink at Hawke before downing a drink and sauntering over to them. She draped herself in a chair beside Hawke and purred. "Good evening, Poppet."

"Izzy," Hawke greeted her nonchalantly.

"Oh, Carver, look. Hawke's ears bush too," Merrill said loudly and Isabela chuckled breathily.

"It seems like I bring that out in her, Kitten," Isabela said sweetly tracing a finger down Hawke's shoulder.

Carver groaned, rolling his eyes. "Maker, I don't need to watch this."

"I would let you join, but that might be awkward for your sister," Isabela said with a wink and a grin at Carver.

Varric made his way down from his room. "I thought I heard, Daisy." He pulled up a chair between Carver and Merrill and asked. "The gang's all here. Is something up, Hawke?"

Hawke cleared her throat and moved slightly away from Isabela. "I got a note from Athenril pointing me to a potential job. I'm meeting someone named Anso after dark in the Lowtown market. I assume if you have nothing better to do Varric, you'll tag along."

He let out a light chuckle. "When do I ever have anything better to do?"

 

Hawke found a dwarf huddled in a dark cleft between two merchant stands, shuffling through some merchandise. "Are you Anso?" she asked.

The dwarf jumped so badly, his feet almost left the ground as he spun to see who had spoken. She hadn't thought she had been quite that stealthy to merit such a harsh reaction as he yelped. "Sweet mother of Partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!" His light blue eyes bugged out of their sockets. As he took a calming breath he said, "Are you... the human Athenril told me about? The one looking for work?"

"Did you think I was going to attack you?" she asked with a mild snicker.

He lifted his hands in submission. "Oh! No, no! Or I hope not, anyhow. My apologies, human. I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute!"

Varric chuckled. "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."

"I'd pay to see that," Carver said with a grin.

"But I digress," Anso said a bit more calmly. "I need some help. Rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been... misplaced. The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomly...?"

"I'll get it back for you," Hawke said, already hearing the clink of coin.

"Must we?" Carver complained, almost as tired of fetch jobs as she was.

"Oh thank goodness," Anso said excitedly with a relieved sigh. "The gentlemen conduct their business at night in a little hovel within the Alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided. But I'm sure they'll be reasonable." Somehow, Hawke doubted that very much as Anso handed them an address.

They made their way past the Hanged Man, through the slums and back to the Alienage. As they started down the stairs, Merrill tugged gently on Hawke's sleeve. "This is strange. I've never seen the Alienage this quiet. Even at night."

"Be on your guard," Hawke agreed, lifting her mask over her face and taking her staff in her hands, but leaving it shrunk. She pushed the door open to the hovel where Anso had pointed them. It was deserted in the common room, and Hawke narrowed her eyes.

Varric stepped up ahead of her and knelt by the door that led to what should be the bedroom. With quick hands, he disabled a pressure trap that someone had set up outside the door. "Piece of cake," he mumbled as Hawke patted his shoulder thankfully.

She pushed open the door and waiting for them inside was at least ten soldiers. To Hawke's surprise, their armor and weapons looked to be from Tevinter. It may have been a trap, but it was not laid by Athenril. She had enough people in her employ to not need to outsource to Tevinter. Hawke cursed as she was rushed by one of the closer soldiers. She lashed out with her mace and it collided with his shield ringing it like a gong. She needed more room to maneuver. She and her people were bottlenecked in the doorway. She reached for her mana and sent her physical magic outwards in a wall of energy, severely depleting her reserves to back the soldiers further into the room so she and the others could advance. While Carver rushed past her with his greatsword at the ready, she used his distraction to quickly down a lyrium potion from the stash she kept on her belt. Her mana surged back into her, putting her back into the fight. Focusing on channeling through her staff after drawing it to full size, she gave Carver a barrier and then began tossing small fireballs into the fray as Merrill's entropic magic seeped through the air, sucking the life from their enemies.

When they were all dead, Hawke paused to catch her breath and Merrill stuttered. "Were they waiting for us? It seemed like they were waiting for us."

Hawke sighed and moved toward an ornate chest near the rear of the room, stepping over a few bodies to get to it. "Anso's goods are probably in this chest." She knelt and pulled the unlatched lock from the chest to open it up. "It's empty," she gasped.

"Waste of bloody time," Varric grumbled. "Who put us up to this?"

Hawke sighed again. "I guess we have no choice but to go back to Anso and tell him."

She stood from her crouch and they headed back out into the street. Outside, the building was surrounded by several more soldiers in the Tevinter armor. "That's not the elf! Who is that?" A woman near the middle of the arc of men shouted in anger.

"It doesn't matter!" one of her companions said drawing his sword. "We were told to kill whoever enters the house."

Hawke immediately erected a wall of fire to keep the attack at bay so they could prepare. Merrill jerked her hands upwards and her fingers twisted in an intricate string of gestures before she unleashed a spell that sucked the air from Hawke's lungs. Several of the Tevinters began to writhe from some invisible force and Hawke backed away from her to get out of the suffocating aura of her magic. Mana driven magic never felt so sickening. That had to be one of Merrill's blood magic spells. Hawke swallowed as she caught her breath and felt another mage on the field. She glanced around and spotted the man casting from behind a thick barrier. Hawke drew on her own magic, casting a mana drain spell that leeched the mana from his veins and replenished her own stores. His barrier dropped and Hawke shot a fireball at him like a rocket, knocking him backwards as it struck him in the chest and ignited his robes. He patted at his chest in a panic and Varric took the shot, burying a bolt between his eyes. With the mage out of the picture, Hawke fell back on her best magic. The tempest spell lit up the dark courtyard, as it struck deafening bolts of lightning all around them. The ground was smoking by the time the final Tevinter fell, and Hawke grinned, shrinking her staff and harnessing it to her hip. She did not envy the man who was hired to clean up the bodies that they were leaving behind.

After taking a minute to quickly check the Tevinters for coin, they headed for the stairs out of the Alienage. Before she even hit the bottom step, another Tevinter came down the stairs and glared angrily at them. "I don't know who you are, friend, but you've made a serious mistake coming here." Was he kidding? Did he not see the pile of Tevinters that she and her companions had just left in their wake? "Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing! Now!" he shouted to unseen forces.

From the top of the stairs, another Tevinter stepped into sight. A harsh gurgle bracketed his desperate shout, turning it into more of a plea. "Captain..." Blood dripped from a fist sized hole in his chest. That he was still standing was a miracle. That was soon to be remedied and he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground dead.

Another figure followed in his bloody footsteps. He was tall and thin, like most elves. He carried a greatsword on his back and the thin body armor he wore was accented on the elbows and shoulders with spiked protrusions. A layered breastplate protected his chest, but Hawke could identify no other metal on his armor aside from the gauntlets covering his fingers. His biceps may as well have been bare as were his feet. It was a particular elven fashion statement that Hawke would never understand. Merrill never wore shoes either. The elf's hair was so white that it was almost silver in the peek of moonlight as he passed under it. The parts of his skin that were bare were covered in white swirling marks that reached up his neck and over his chin. They stood out starkly against his honey colored skin and brought out the green in his eyes. "Your men are dead," he said in a deep voice that drew Hawke's attention from his smoldering good looks and back to the situation at hand. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."

By the end of his warning, he had made it far enough to stand directly in front of Hawke, ignoring the Tevinter Captain now behind him. She caught an almost breath stealing scent of petrichor that rode on the wind from him. "You're going nowhere, _slave_ ," the Captain said, his right hand falling roughly on the elf's left shoulder.

At the touch, the elf sneered and cringed, his nose wrinkling harshly as he glanced over his shoulder. He spun in a flash and the markings on his skin lit up in a dazzling display of blue. His right arm reared back and Hawke saw that he had gone mildly transparent. She gasped in awe as his hand slipped inside the Tevinter like he was made out of butter and the transparency lessened, the Captain grunting in agony as he pulled his hand free again leaving a hole in the man's chest. "I am not a slave," he said angrily, flicking the blood on his gauntlet to the ground as the light show faded and he turned back around. His sneer disappeared rapidly and he tipped his head slightly to get a look at Hawke in earnest. "I apologize," he said civily. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so... numerous." He paced further into the clearing to get a look at the dead Tevinters all around.

"Don't worry, we do this sort of thing often," Hawke quipped, amazed she could even speak coherently after what she had just witnessed.

"Impressive," he said, his back still to her. Then he turned to face her. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely." He lifted an arm to indicate her with a barely there smile.

"Anso's job did seem a little too easy," she said with a chuckle, crossing her arms.

"Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding." He paused and considered her a moment. "If I may ask, what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty," Hawke said with a shrug.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know," he said with a sigh.

"You were expecting something else?" Hawke asked with curiosity.

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more," he admitted.

"All that for an empty chest?" Hawke was getting more and more invested in the 'why' of this job as she talked to the mysterious Fenris with the rumbling baritone.

"No," he shook his head once. "There's more." He moved to kneel by the dead Captain and search his pockets. Hawke watched in fascination as he gingerly retrieved a small bit of parchment. "It's as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city," he grumbled as he stood, not reading the note, but identifying the symbol. "I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

"Looks like it's going to be a long night," Hawke said in faked exasperation as she smiled.

"I will find a way to repay you, I swear it," he said in relief. "The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning." He left them almost as quietly as he had appeared and Hawke watched him go, still reeling.

"Your ears are bushing again, Hawke," Merrill pointed out softly.

Hawke swallowed and then cleared her throat. "Let's get out of here before we give Aveline a bigger headache than we already have."

"What kind of magic was that?" Carver asked as he followed her up the stairs from the Alienage.

"I... I don't think it was magic," she said as she turned toward Hightown. "He smelled like a templar."

"Those were _not_ the abilities of a templar, Hawke," Varric pointed out.

"Of that I am quite certain," she agreed. "Carver, I want you to go home. You shouldn't be involved in this. Killing a Tevinter Magister could get messy." He started to protest, but she stopped mid stride and turned on him. "Go home to Mother." His scowl could have melted ice, but he turned and stalked away.

 

Hawke had never been to the residential district in Hightown before. She climbed the endless stairs and was pleased to see a garden at the top that brightened the stoney facades of the mansions. Each entry was marked with a crest, letting any visitors know who lived behind the doors and vine covered walls. Fenris stood in the shadows beside a door nestled in the corner past a miniature garden plot along the wall to her left. She approached him and he didn't necessarily smile, but he looked pleased to see them. "No one has left the mansion, but I've heard nothing within. Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

Hawke paused as she bit her lip. She didn't want to walk into anything too blindly. She had already agreed to help Fenris on a whim. "I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius."

Fenris chafed at her question, his eyes narrowing. "He is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium." he said as if that was all she needed.

"Oh? Is that all? Nothing to worry about, then," she said as her usual sarcasm inserted itself.

Fenris grunted, realizing she wanted more. "There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence. Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hawke snipped, responding to his dramatization with an eyeroll.

"I do not fear death," he informed her. "But that does not mean we should be reckless." He moved away from the wall and opened the door into the mansion. Strange that a man expecting an attack might leave his door unlocked. Fenris went against his own warnings and immediately announced their presence by shouting. "Danarius! Come out and face me!"

Hawke cringed, expecting a trap to spring at any moment. Varric held up a palm and went ahead, alleviating some of her concern. Through the next doorway, he knelt and disabled a tripwire. Hawke sighed and followed him into the room. The air felt stifling, like the veil was not quite up to snuff. Someone had been summoning in this mansion. When she hit the center of the room, several shades slithered from the ground around their perimeter. She reacted on instinct, her barrier forming around them all as she drew her staff. She and Merrill both set to work on the shades to their right while Fenris shouted in anger and drew his greatsword, charging into the fray as Carver usually did. His giant blade spun in an arc around him, cutting through the shades. Hawke felt the draw of his markings as he somehow affected the Fade around them. It was like when he activated the marks, he could phase between the real world and the Fade. Like when a mage would cast the Fade step ability, except he was definitely no mage. He smelled like pure lyrium. How in the Maker had he gotten these abilities? She was finding it hard to focus on him while he had the marks activated, turning him into a wraith-like being that was able to flit across the battle field almost unnoticed until his sword was in your gut.

He growled angrily and his features took on a sullen look as they finished off the shades. "He sends spirits to do his fighting for him. Danarius! Can you hear me!? Your pets cannot stop us!" With a wary glance at Hawke and Merrill, that held a hint of disappointment that was particularly directed at Hawke, he stalked to the next room.

The mansion was filled from top to bottom with shades and demons. Danarius had laid his trap well. When they finally found and killed the Arcane Horror that had been summoned to upkeep the mayhem, Fenris sheathed his sword and sighed. "Gone. I had hoped... No, it doesn't matter any longer." He released a deep sigh and shrugged gracefully. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I... need some air."

He left them in the main bedroom before Hawke even had a chance to worry if he was going to be okay. She admittedly was interested in whatever a Tevinter magister might leave behind. They shuffled through the chests that were scattered around the upper floor, taking anything that looked valuable. Coin was coin, no matter the form. When they had taken what Varric could stuff in the small pack he carried, they left the mansion through the side door where they had entered.

Fenris waited for them against the same wall he had met them by initially. His head was hung and he looked disturbed. Hearing them exit, he sighed. "It never ends." He pushed away from the stone to stand before Hawke who took him in wondering why there had been the sudden change in his demeanor towards her. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage." His eyes swept over her, but not in the way she was used to from Isabela. It was a particular type of scorn that she didn't think anyone had ever used against her before. It made her stomach ball up in a knot as the strangely magic man seemed to decide she was an abomination. "I saw you casting spells inside," he accused. "I should have realized sooner what you really were." He took a breath and the scorn lingered only moments before he settled into a passive glare. "Tell me then, what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

"I'm not _seeking_ anything," she said, desperately defensive.

"Yet danger will undoubtedly find you," he said with some semblance of acceptance. He wasn't wrong. She did seem to attract all the wrong sorts of attention.

"We're not all the same, nor are we worthy of your scorn," Merrill piped up, reminding Hawke that she wasn't alone with Fenris.

He balked for a moment and then said, "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt." He took a pouch from his belt and held it out to her. "Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised." she took the pouch warily as he wiped the last bit of a sneer from his face. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago," she said, still concerned about how he saw her. He knew her secret, and she needed to know that he would not do anything that might put her on the wrong side of the Gallows gates.

"You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen," he said with an accepting bow of his head. The benefit of the doubt. That was all she needed.

"I'm planning an expedition I might need help with," she said with a smile, pocketing the purse and returning his acceptance. She still needed answers about him, but that would come in time.

"Fair enough. Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it," he grunted threateningly. "Beyond that, I am at your disposal." He took a short bow and disappeared back inside the mansion.

The dawn was approaching, light beginning to filter through the cracks between the tall buildings that made up Hightown. Hawke was exhausted and she still needed to escort Merrill home. She patted Varric's shoulder and excused him from the task, trusting him to get a good price on the goods they'd taken from the mansion. With one last glance back at the now quiet residence, she sighed and hoped that Fenris would not turn into a problem for her.

She and Merrill made their way back down to the Alienage and Hawke declined Merrill's invitation to tea. She simply wanted to get home and take her boots off and have a nap. She had used a lot of magic through the night and her mana reserves were low, sapping her energy as well. In spite of the yawn that threatened to cramp her jaw as she shuffled from Merrill's front door, she couldn't help overhearing the conversation between a frightened elf and a templar near the foot of the steps that had been miraculously cleared off in the few short hours they had been in Hightown. Elves sure knew how to cover up murders in their district. The bodies had likely been chucked over the short walls into the harbor below and the blood wiped up almost as soon as they'd left.

The templar seemed to be regretfully denying the woman his help. "Madam, we'll do our best to find your son, but I cannot guarantee his safety if he continues to resist templar jursidiction."

"He's just a boy!" she pleaded through tears.

"He's an apostate," the templar corrected sadly. "I am sorry for your loss, mistress, but I can offer your son mercy only if he turns himself in."

"I'm trying to find him, but..." she sobbed.

"The templars cannot tolerate apostates."

Hawke knew she should have walked away then, but she couldn't help but feel for the woman. There was a certain similarity between her and Hawke's own mother should anyone ever find out about her magic. The woman continued to weep as the templar left, his plate clanking loudly inside Hawke's tired brain as he passed her. Hawke approached the crying elf and cleared her throat. "I'm guessing that templar wasn't here to offer your son his good wishes."

"I am Arianni," the woman said softly as she turned to regard Hawke's sympathetic expression. She bore facial tattoos that marked her as Dalish, but she was obviously not part of any local clan if she was in the Alienage. "My boy, Feynril... he's all I have, all my family. When I learned he had magic, I could not bear to send him to the Circle." She paused and sighed, regarding Hawke again before revealing more. "But his connection to the Fade... it gives him nightmares, dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself."

"Those look like Dalish tattoos. Why do you live in the city?" Hawke asked softly, knowing that it was not likely that she had been turned out by her own kind unless there was a very good reason.

"I was born to the Dalish," Arianni confirmed, drying her eyes. "but came to Kirkwall for a time and... dallied with a human merchant. Vincento. When I found I was with child, neither Vincento nor my tribe wished the burden of an elf-blooded human infant. I raised Feynril myself, here in the Alienage."

"What kind of dreams is he having?" Hawke wondered.

"He dreams of demons, calling to him, pulling him into their world. Everyday it grows harder to wake him," she admitted, wringing her hands in fear. "This is why I turned to the Circle. They are the only ones that can protect a mage from his own powers."

"Abominations are always so awkward at family reunions," Hawke sighed as she resolved to take the burden of finding Feynril.

"No! Please, you must find him before... before the demons finish their work! He must be brought to safety," Arianni pleaded. "If you won't do it for Feynril, do it for Kirkwall. The templars say a lad like my son is a danger to the whole city if left untrained."

"I'll bring your son back to safety. I promise," Hawke said, taking the nervous mother's hands in hers and patting them in comfort.

"I don't know where Feynril has gone, but there are two places you might start your search. Ser Thrask has been looking for him. If you speak to him in the Gallows, he'll be able to tell you what ground he's already covered. And Feynril's father, Vincento, recently returned from Antiva. He's a merchant in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynril might have sought him out."

"I will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary," Hawke assured her again.

"Thank you. It has been a lonely time, hiding. It's almost a relief to finally confront this openly," Arianni said with a ragged sigh.

Hawke left her. It was far too early to go to the Bazaar, but there was no way in the Void that she was going to the Gallows to ask Thrask about Feynril. She opted to go home and rest for a few hours before she went to talk to Vincento.

 

It was a rare thing anymore when Aveline had time off to actually spend with Hawke. That was the reason Hawke was a little miffed when she had to drag her out to the bazzar to have a chat with Vincento. Carver decided to tag along as well, stating he had nothing better to do.

Hawke sought out the newest face in the Bazaar. Most of the merchants she had become aquainted with, the better to make deals with. Vincento was a slippery looking weasel, attractive enough in the face if you happened to be a starstruck Dalish, but Hawke wasn't fooled. She approached the man and he leered, as most men did when the pale skinned, dark haired, Ferelden approached them. "Greetings, my lady." he said in a thick Antivan accent that would have melted Isabela's knickers right off. She had a thing for accents and bass. Wait until she met Fenris. Hawke pursed her lips and listened to his offer. "You look like a woman who'd appreciate the finest rubies from Antiva gracing her lovely neck." Hawke fought the urge to laugh in his face. She was currently wearing a simple red tunic left untied at the neck and a pair of brown hide pants. Her cloak made up the difference as the tunic continuously slipped off her shoulder. Maker, when had it gotten so cold? She crossed her arms and wondered how he had the nerve to offer her rubies in her current state of disheveled. "I bring only the best northern merchandise to the Free Marches."

"Actually, I'm more interested in your son," she said as her eyes rolled upwards.

Vincento had the decency to look surprised before he sputtered out a falsely amused laugh. "My lady! I am a bachelor. I have never met a lady of sufficient beauty and charm to tie Vincento down..." _He did not just refer to himself in the third person_. Hawke groaned.

"That's the best you can do with a guard staring you in the face?" Aveline asked, her own arms crossing as she moved closer, more than happy to lend Hawke a hand.

"Let us not ruin the day with such weighty thoughts," Vincento purred, attempting to salvage the situation. "Perhaps I could show you my silks..."

Hawke rolled her eyes again and held up a discreet hand to call a touch of healing magic. Enough to create a blue aura around her fingers. "We're not templars, serah. Feynril has nothing to fear from us."

Carver grunted as Vincento gasped. "Maldicion! You're a mage! I suppose you'd be kind, then, to a boy who resists being taken in by templars?" Hawke nodded gently, an encouraging smile spreading over her lips in spite of the animosity she felt for the man. She only needed his information, not his silks.

"Oh, sure, like he's family," Carver grunted angrily.

"The boy's in over his head," Vincento sighed. "So I sent him to the only man I know who doesn't despise mages. A former templar named Samson."

"Why would a templar help him?" Hawke wondered aloud.

"His conscience plagues him, having served the templars too long. He now helps mages on the run," Vincento explained. "He stays out of sight during the day. At night, he stays near Darktown. That's the best place to find him."

Hawke nodded her thanks and left Vincento. Since she was likely not to get anywhere until dark, she grinned and patted Aveline's shoulder. "How about a drink, _Captain_."

They left the market and headed for the Hanged Man. Aveline's presence did no more than move one or two patrons across the bar as they glared at Hawke for bringing the steely eyes of the law into the esablishment. Carver moved off to talk to some of his 'friends', and Hawke lifted two fingers to Norah who nodded and smiled. "Why are we here, Hawke?" Aveline asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Hawke lounged back in her own chair. "There are plenty of places in Hightown to get a drink."

Hawke smirked and snorted as she glanced over at Isabela whose elbows rested on the bar as she leaned, her ass sticking out in traffic. "None of those places have the view that this one does."

"I'm certain the Rose would argue that point," Aveline said with a nod to Norah as she set two mugs of ale on their table.

"You want to go drinking at the Rose?" Hawke asked, her brow rising in a teasing arch.

Aveline let out a disgusted sound and said, "You're insufferable, Hawke."

Just then, Varric appeared at the top of the stairs and upon spotting them, made his way over. He shooed Hawke's feet from the chair beside her and sat. "So what brings our illustrious Guard Captain in training into Lowtown?" he asked as Hawke playfully kicked him for moving her feet. "Are you reconsidering my offer?"

"Varric, no," Aveline said in warning as he smirked.

"You're the Captain!... or you will be. It'll be easy," he urged, his grin spreading.

Aveline lowered her voice. "I'm not petitioning the Viscount to help you steal ownership of this dump."

"Steal?" Varric said with a chuckle, his fingertips pressed to his chest amidst the shaggy hair. "Madame, you wound me."

"I'm about to," she agreed with a small smirk and a nod as she shooed him. Hawke chuckled as Varric got up from his seat and picked her feet back up to drop them in the chair. Then he sidled over to bother Carver. It was his favorite pasttime. Aveline sighed, twisting her mug in a circle on the table. "Big changes are coming, huh? Captain of the Guard... Thank you, Wesley."

Hawke smirked and took a sip of her drink. "Not sure I like being behind the dead in order of influence."

Aveline reached out and nudged Hawke's arm. "Of course I have you to thank. It's just... I've made a mess of things, time to time. But that failure... He's not with me. I know that. Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not, either way, he knows no pain. What I keep is that moment. I won't let anyone down like that again."

Hawke sat forward, interested in Aveline's openness. It was a rare thing. "Wesley's 'at the Maker's side or he's not'? What do you mean by that?"

"Wesley believed, and if he was correct, then that's where he is. But... this business of 'the less the Maker does, the more he's proven'? I don't find it compelling." Aveline finally took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose.

"But you married a templar," Hawke said with a questioning frown.

"I married a _man_. A good one. And he's gone. I have heard the Chant. It's lovely. Perhaps that's all it needs to be," Aveline admitted with a shrug and delving back into her drink for a second taste.

"You clearly miss Wesley, but that's not the issue?" Hawke prodded.

"Of course I miss him, but he's not coming back. Pining like a child serves no one. So I remember him, but I let him rest."

"You're not so kind to yourself, though," Hawke realized.

"No," Aveline agreed without meeting Hawke's gaze.

Hawke didn't want to press too hard. Aveline was as sensitive as she was hardened. Opening up the wounds of her husband's death was no way to spend the free afternoon. She kicked her feet back on the chair for a third time and chugged her own drink before smirking. "I could get used to having the law on my side."

Aveline looked up, her usual exasperated smile returning. "You'll behave yourself, is what you'll do. I just sent Jeven to prison over corruption. I won't go the same road."

Hawke pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. "You never let me have any fun."

"I think that's best for everyone," Aveline chuckled.

Hawke joined her laughter briefly before patting the hand she had on the table. "It's good that you can stay with me. I need you, Aveline."

Aveline flipped her hand and grabbed Hawke's to squeeze it lightly. "You've been grand through all of this. A true friend. Captain of the guard," she repeated. "Thank you for helping me get here, Hawke. It's where I should be."

 

Samson, after Hawke released a few coins, led them to a warehouse on the quays. Feynril was no where to be found, but they witnessed the Captain and his crew attempting to tie down another girl who desperately tried to fight them off and turned into an abomination right in front of them. They were forced to kill the poor girl as well as the budding slavers. A note on the girl made Hawke rethink her initial assessment of the templar Thrask. The mage had been his daughter. Hawke pocketed the note along with a manifest that led her to Darktown and the mage that had hired the Captain.

When she found her way to the particular dark corner where Danzig was hiding, she was beginning to feel the day catching up with her. She approached him and he grinned at her and her small entourage. "Why look here, boys. Volunteers! Clap 'em in irons and let's see what the Tevinters will pay for them."

Hawke sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching behind her for one of her hidden daggers. "I'd make a terrible slave. I talk too much." She lifted her arm and the dagger was at his throat. "And I do that."

The man grabbed her arm and shoved it away with one hand while shoving her backward with the other. She was slow to react because of the lack of a good night's sleep. "Nobody threatens me on my ground. Shut this bitch up," he ordered, pulling his own staff from his back.

The push knocked her into Isabela's waiting arms and she lingered a moment as Isabela groped her hips. "Go get 'em poppet," she purred in Hawke's ear before pushing her back into the fight and drawing her own daggers. In the urgency of the fight, Hawke was unable to bring out her staff, so she cast from her fingers, the glorious flow of mana into her palms a welcome feeling. Fireballs formed and shot from her hands so quickly that she took out Danzig before he got a spell off on Aveline. Aveline shouted and charged at another of the slavers, swinging her sword in an arc after slamming him to the ground with her shield. Hawke saw Varric making his way up the stairs to get the high ground and didn't see the rogue sneaking up on her. Sharp burning pain lit up her senses as the dagger found it's way into her side. She cried out, spinning around to elbow her attacker in the face. He stumbled back and a bolt flew into his neck. Hawke stumbled, moving to lean against one of the grimey pillars that held the roof up and grunted. "Hawke!" Isabela shouted from across the battlefield.

"I'm fine," she said, calling her mana in a healing spell. "Just keep them off me." More bolts flew over her head and Isabela danced around the group, slicing through the slavers with speed and grace. Watching her move gave Hawke the concentration she needed to close up the wound. It stung like a son-of-a-bitch, but she would heal, eventually. When Aveline downed the last man, they all rushed to her side in concern. "I'm fine," she repeated, holding up a hand as she leaned on her knees to catch her breath.

"Don't scare me like that," Isabela said with a nervous chuckle and a half hearted slap to Hawke's cheek.

Hawke smirked and stood straight. "There's got to be something here that shows where he shipped Feynril." She moved past the others to head for Danzig's charred corpse. As she knelt by the body, Varric approached and pushed her cloak aside to lift up her shirt. Satisfied with the closed over wound, he dropped the cloth back in place as she found a note on Danzig. Kirkwall was famous for idiots who never burned the notes. Everything she ever needed, she always found on a corpse. "Looks like they took him to some bolt hole in the Wounded Coast." She chuckled and attempted to bring light to everyone who was looking at her like she was the walking dead. "I wonder if that's near the Injured Cliffs, or the Limping Hills... Massive Head Trauma Bay?" When she got little more than eye rolls all around she sighed, "No? Just me? Forget I said anything."

"We can head out to the Coast in the morning," Varric said. "Right now, you should go home and get some rest, Hawke."

It _had_ been a long day. She hadn't gotten much sleep after dropping Merrill off at home before Aveline came calling. Now it was likely past midnight, and she had just used up a good bit of mana in healing herself. "If you all insist," she agreed with a sigh.

 

They found Feynril around mid morning after trekking out to the Coast and hunting down the cave that had been mentioned in the note. Varric used his quick tongue to convince the slavers that Feynril was the Viscount's illegitimate child, while Hawke watched in amusement. Not wanting to start a war, the men handed him over and paid them off with his bounty. The boy was scared, but determined that he was not going to the Circle. He said he was looking for the Dalish and without a second thought, Hawke pointed him to the camp in the mountains. Marethari would need a new First without Merrill.

Hawke decided on her way back to the city to stop in and visit with Fenris. She was hoping to get a better feel for who he was and why he might harbor such scorn for mages. Was it simply because his former master was a magister? Or had he had some other terrible experience?

What she ran into instead was him nursing a half empty bottle of wine, the entire mansion a mess of toppled furniture and ripped up tapestries. She sat calmly in the living area where she stood staring at her, his eyes narrowed. She was amazed that he had even let her in. He was sizing her up. Again. Though, this time it was less full of malice and more full of an appreciation as his eyes lingered over her. He sighed deeply and held up the bottle in his hand for her to see the label. "Agreggio Pavali. There are six bottles in the cellar." He pulled it back to him to stare at the label. "Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

Hawke let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten his mood. She was beginning to believe that sullen was the only mood he had. "I can't imagine why they would be put off." She certainly wasn't. Not by his looks anyway. Although if he continued to glare at her for simply being what she was, it might get old quickly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his eyes finally stopping their narrowed investigation of the bottle to fall on her again. He took a final sip from the bottle before sneering and with a grunt of effort throwing it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Glass sprayed everywhere and the red wine dripped down the wall to the floor where it was absorbed by the tapestry that had previously resided in that particular bare spot. He sighed and turned a half smile on her. "It's good I can still take pleasure in the small things."

"You could have offered me a glass first, you know," she said with a snarky pout.

"There's more if you're really interested," he said pointing a lazy finger toward the cellar.

She snorted. "Perish the thought. How else would you redecorate the walls?"

He actually laughed, and Hawke was amazed by the small three note chuckle as his lips curled upwards for a moment before he slipped back into his brooding facade. "I've wanted to leave my past behind me, but it won't stay there. Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?"

Hawke relaxed as he seemed to open up to her. She slumped into her chair and shrugged. "I've started a life here."

He moved to sit across from her and frown slightly. "And that's it? You leave it behind so easily?"

"We fled the Blight and did what we could. Would you have done differently?" Hawke had grown up in a sleepy village. Kirkwall had quickly become a home to her in spite of constantly having to hide who she was. She had people here that she cared about. There was nothing left for her in Lothering. She picked at her fingernails and raised her eyes to watch him through her lashes. He cocked his head slightly and frowned deeper.

"No. That is, in fact, exactly what I have done," he paused, watching her fidget. "I apologize. Your life is your own, it simply... sounds very familiar."

"You've been on the run a long time then?" she asked, grabbing for the chance to learn more about him. In a way, they had quite a bit in common. The chains might be of a different sort, but they were chains nonetheless.

"Three years, now," he agreed, drawing the words out to sound agonizing. "Danarius has a way of finding me. Perhaps it is the markings?" he sighed and ran his fingers lightly over the slightly upraised veins of Lyrium fused with his skin. She found her eyes tracing them along with his fingers. There was no other explanation for what they were. From his intoxicating scent to the abilities they gave him, it had to be Lyrium. She wondered how he had gotten them, but that was a conversation for friends, not mildly flirtatious aquaintences. "Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers." He looked up at her and offered another tiny flicker of a smile.

"Haven't you sought help before?" she asked, her tone gentle. He was being so friendly. She didn't want to scare him off.

"Hirelings, when I could steal the coin," he shrugged. "Never anyone of substance... Until you. Danarius will not give up however, I await his return."

"What if he does give up? What then?" she wondered.

"Then I go to him. I will not live with a wolf at my back," he growled angrily.

"Sounds like the right idea to me," she said, backing off.

"If it comes to that. I doubt it will," he grunted.

"Maybe it's just me, but it sounds like you want to stick around," she said, raising her tone back to teasing.

"I could see myself staying... for the right reasons," his eyes swept over her again and he smirked. She found her heart beating a tiny bit faster and she swallowed. "I should thank you again for helping me with the hunters. Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

"Maybe _I_ should be thanking Anso," she said, her flirtatious tone accented with her own smirk as she shamelessly batted her eyelashes. She literally could not help herself.

He chuckled again lightly and said, "Maybe you should. Perhaps I'll practice my flattery for your next visit. With any luck, I'll become better at it."

She stood and cocked a hip at him. "I'll expect a drink that I don't need to lap off the walls next time," she teased as she flung her cloak around her shoulders to head into the cold. Then she left him.

 

Hawke strolled back to Lowtown. On their way from the coast, Varric had asked to talk to her when she had a minute, so she headed confidently toward the Hanged Man. She bumped into Isabela as she headed for Varric's room and the Pirate cocked her hips. "You look flushed, poppet. Were you flirting without me?"

"Jealous, Izzy?" Hawke snarked with a grin.

"Interested. Is it the broody elf that Varric has told me so much about? I'm dying to get a look myself," she chuckled.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Hawke teased tracing a finger down Isabela's cheek and then slapping it gently twice. "But I promised Varric that he and I would have a sit down."

"Damn his chest hair. We could be having so much fun right now," Isabela pouted as Hawke sauntered away from her.

Upstairs, Varric was in the process of diligently taking pen to parchment. She walked in quietly and said, "There's my favorite dwarf! I've got some time to talk if you do."

He chuckled, setting his quill back in it's well and glanced at her with a grin. "I'm your only dwarf, Hawke." After she made herself comfortable, he continued. "So, here's the thing. We need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

"Any entrance would do, wouldn't it? Unless a dragon's sitting in it, I suppose," She quipped taking an apple fom his fruit bowl, rubbing it on her shirt, and biting into it.

He stood and rounded the table to a pile of scattered maps. "We need an entrance that's close to our destination, but isn't already plundered or filled with Darkspawn. Fortunately I've received some new information." She cocked her head and motioned with the apple for him to continue. "There's a Grey Warden in the city. If anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

She swallowed her bite of apple and said, "Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric."

He took a half bow. "And that, messere, is why I'm here. Supposedly, this Grey Warden came in with some other Ferelden refugees not long ago. A Lowtown woman named Lirene has been helping the Fereldens. We talk to her, maybe we can learn where he is." Hawke took another bite of her apple and then tossed it to him. "I'll keep after my contacts... see if I can drum up any other work," he said as he caught the apple and she stood.

"I'll get on Lirene. Would you mind grabbing my brother from the house? He'll want in on this," she requested as he shrugged and bit into the apple as well.

"I'll meet you outside Lirene's," he agreed, pulling on his jacket.

 

Inside Lirene's office, there was a donation box set up near the door and more than a handful of Fereldens clambored for attention. Lirene was behind a desk near the rear, speaking with a woman who was pleading for help for her mother who had gone into premature labor while they were getting off the boat. Lirene was a dark haired and very serious looking woman dressed in a plain dress with no fancy trimmings. Hawke patiently waited her turn and when she stepped up to Lirene, the woman looked her up and down once before saying, "If you're seeking aid, leave your name with my girl. We serve everyone here... no one came from Ferelden without trouble. But I can't give priority to anyone who's already found work and lodging." She crossed her arms.

Hawke shook her head slowly. "Is there a way I can assist these people?"

Lirene seemed to lighten her scowl and said, "If you've coin to spare, we won't turn it down. Donations go in the box up front. Anything else?"

"I hear you know where I can find a Ferelden Grey Warden," Hawke asked carefully.

Lirene scoffed. "Only Ferelden Grey Warden I've heard of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the Blight's path now. Why would you need a Warden?" Her brow rose in question. She was protecting someone.

The woman who had been asking about her mother said softly. "The healer was one of 'em once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

"Well, he's not now," Lirene corrected. "And busy enough without answering fool questions about it."

"Then I'll only ask very smart questions," Hawke insisted, hoping to endear herself to Lirene as she did most of the Lowtowners she encountered.

"I do not joke, serah," Lirene said with a grimace. "You see what our people face in Kirkwall. They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, delivered their children. He's a good man. I won't lose him to the blighted templars."

So the healer was a mage and a bleeding heart. Hawke chuckled and placed her hands down flat on Lirene's desk. "Tell me he's got killer eyes and a nice smile. I'll marry him on the spot."

That drew a soft laugh from Lirene. "As it happens, he's got the eyes. But I've never seen him smile. It's always seemed like he must have lost even more than the rest of us..." she paused and regarded Hawke again. "I suppose you can seek him out. Anders certainly hasn't turned anyone else away. Look for the lit lantern in Darktown. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

On her way out the door, Hawke dropped a sovereign in the box. It was all she could spare, but it felt right to do something. Varric and Carver were waiting outside for her and she told them what she had learned. Varric led them through the streets to Darktown, saying he had noticed the lantern on one of their fetch jobs. They passed through the dirty muck of Darktown and just past where the basement entrance to the Amell estate stood, there was a set of double doors. Above each door, a simple paper lantern was hung, the steady light inside telling her that they were not simple candles burning. He was using mage light. Bold.

She pushed one of the doors open and stepped quietly inside. Hawke immediately shuffled her boots on the tattered rug that was laid out in front of the doors, because this was easily the cleanest place she'd ever seen in Darktown. Light shone in from windows to her right that looked out over the water. Several cots were set up around the area, some of them occupied, but most empty. At the very rear of the room, a couple stood over one of the short cots, the man hugging the woman close to him as she watched with tears glistening in her eyes. A young boy, no older than ten laid on the cot, unconscious as a man stood over him. His thin fingers glowed with blue healing magic. His face was pinched and strawberry blonde locks of hair fell over his forehead from a messily pulled back tail that was almost too short to exist. A simple gold hoop graced his right earlobe. His clothes were draped on him as if he hadn't had a decent meal since he'd put them on. It was a simple outfit, mildly Tevinter in make, but his features were definitely not Tevinter. His jaw was thin but masculine, covered in stubble from simply ignoring his own upkeep in favor of helping his patients. Hawke could see the strain of overworked magic in the tiny lines beside his eyes. As she felt the spell begin to fade and the boy sat up, recognizing his parents, his mother hugged him and his father moved to pat the exhausted mage on his gray feathered pauldrons that sat atop the primarily green and brown coat he wore. He waved the man off, turning away to lean on a pillar behind the cot. The family left, passing Hawke as she moved to approach Anders. His shoulders tensed and she stopped walking as his head lifted quickly.

In seconds, he had spun and was brandishing a well made staff at her and her companions. His left hand was upraised and she wondered where he would find the mana to even throw a fireball after the spell he had poured into the boy. His honey brown eyes blazed in anger as he took in the three of them and realized they were not injured. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?"

Hawke was nearly struck dumb at the intensity of his glare, but she wasn't frightened. She was enraptured. "Strange occupation for a Warden. Aren't you more about taint and death, not healing and salvation?"

At her snarky remark, his hand lowered slightly as he cocked his head. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" He frowned and swiped that same hand downwards in a final gesture. "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Hawke smirked and crossed her arms. "You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot? In the Deep Roads?" She knew immediately that she was going to like this mage.

He took her tone as mocking and said defensively. "He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too." Anders sighed after his proud expression faded. "The blighted Wardens said he 'made me too soft.' I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

He seemed to have calmed at his initial mistrust of her, and he turned and leaned the staff against the pillar where he'd retrieved it from. "I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads," she said by way of explanation. "Any information you have could save people's lives."

"I will die a happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested..." he grunted, crossing his arms and then taking on a calculating frown as his eyes flicked between her, Varric and Carver. "Although... a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you?" Such was the way of things in Darktown. Nothing came without a price.

She glanced behind her at her companions and held up her palms before her. "Let's be more specific. I don't do anything involving children or animals," she said with a grin.

He ignored her joke and said, "I have a Warden map of the depths in this area, but there's a price..." He moved to start pacing, now on her side of the cot. His magic rolled off of him in a relaxing hum to glide over her skin. "I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage... a prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

"How do you plan to break him out of the Gallows?" she wondered, not certain she liked the idea of going up against templars for a stranger. No matter how piercing his eyes might be. _Focus, Hawke_.

"I'm hoping it won't come to that. I sent Karl a message to meet me in the Chantry tonight. Maker willing, he'll be there, alone." Anders shrugged his shoulders, ruffling the feathers on his pauldrons. "But if there are templars with him, I swear, I'll free him from them. Whatever the cost."

"I'm not sure about attacking templars," Hawke admitted, biting her lip. "I might rather take my chances with the Darkspawn."

He cocked his head as if he didn't understand her reservations. It was then that she realized she hadn't brought her staff, nor bothered to cover her face or look shady. He must not have realized she was a mage as well. "If we fight the templars, it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without questioning."

"Doesn't fighting them prove their point?" Carver asked, nudging her shoulder. "They don't need more reasons to hunt us."

"These are my terms," Anders said with finality. "If you want my aid with your expedition, meet me in the Chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing, we will all leave free men."

"I'll be there," Hawke assured him with a smile. Carver groaned behind her, but didn't speak and she nudged him out of her way so she could leave.

It was odd to step from the pristine clinic into the dingy streets of Darktown. As soon as the door closed behind them, Carver grabbed her elbow and stopped her in her tracks. "Are you insane? You want to help this stranger fight templars?"

"Easy, Junior," Varric warned as Hawke spun on him.

"Maker help me, Carver, if you screw this up for us, I will leave you home," Hawke threatened. She was finally starting to see the revenue they would need to get this expedition moving, now was the time to start planning. Anders' maps would help them come back in one piece. When he pressed his lips together, she backed away from him. "I have a few things to take care of. I'll meet you in the Chantry courtyard tonight." She stormed off, wreathing herself in the familliar warmth of her magic as her temper flared. It seemed like every time she brought Carver along with her, he was finding more and more of a backbone to question her with. The expedition was going to be so much fun. Hawke rolled her eyes as she stomped toward the Gallows. She had decided to give the note they had found on the girl to Ser Thrask and inform him that his daughter was dead. It was a somber job, but she felt like he needed to know. She wanted to meet the templar whose own daughter was an apostate.

After she introduced herself, getting control of her anger before even stepping near the Gallows, he smiled when he realized who she was. "We have found neither hide nor hair of the lad Feynril. I can only think he has fallen victim to demons or slavers."

Hawke nodded, not revealing that she had indeed found Feynril and let him go. Instead, she held the note out to him. "I found this. It was addressed to you. It seems to be from your daughter."

"My daughter!" he gasped, taking the paper from her. "Then... you know what she is. How she died... When I traced her to that warehouse... I should have forced her into the Circle. My own weakness in the face of her pleas is what destroyed her. It is why I urged Arianni not to give in when Feynril wished to hide. If only I had been so strong for Olivia." He sounded heartbroken, the note crumbled in his balled fist.

Hawke reached out and placed her hand on the man's forearm. He seemed a decent sort, for a templar. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about the templars finding out anymore."

"Thank you," he said choking back a sob. "She is at peace now. I would not wish to see her name smeared while her ashes are still warm."

Hawke patted his arm one last time before leaving him to his grief. She made her way up toward Hightown, wanting to get a better layout of the meeting place for the night. She paid a visit to the Chantry, having only been inside one other time with Isabela. She made her way through the quiet sanctuary, not contemplating the Maker or Andraste like most of the patrons among the pews. Instead, she was wondering how they had gotten the gigiantic statue of Andraste through the doors to stand and watch over everything. She craned her neck to get a better look. When she looked away, getting ready to leave and maybe head to the market to do some browsing, she recognized the Prince of Starkhaven, still dressed in his dazzling white armor and kneeling before one of the many memorial altars and lighting a candle. She smiled, having wondered how she was going to get word to him about Flint Company and how very dead they were. Giving no thought to propriety, she moved closer to him and waited for him to turn and nearly bump into her before saying anything.

She offered him a pleasant smile as his hands steadied her by her upper arms. "So, will anyone smite me if I tell you I killed the men who wronged your family?" she asked conspritorially, her voice low in the quiet of the Chantry.

"Excuse me, who are...?" He paused and backed away a step, letting go of her arms. His bright aqua eyes studied her intently for a moment before a small smile crept onto his face. "My post to the Chanter's Board? Did Her Grace let that stay?" he let out a soft disbelieving chuckle. "I thought for sure no one even read... But you say you've killed them?" Hawke nodded and found herself enjoying his scrutiny and his accent. Why was everyone in Kirkwall so damned attractive? "You have my eternal gratitude, serah! It is comforting to think my parents might now rest easily in their graves." He moved slowly away from the altar, a gesture indicating she should follow.

"Who are you exactly?" she asked, knowing not a thing about him except that he was a prince and a damned good shot with his bow.

"I am Sebastian Vael, prince of Starkhaven," he offered her a short bow of his head and then a smile spread across his face. "Her Grace might prefer I introduce myself as a brother in the Chantry, but I could not stay after what happened to my family."

"Who sent these mercenaries?" Hawke asked, knowing that Flint Company had not likely taken mass assassination of a royal family upon themselves.

"My family has ruled Starkhaven for six generations. We have enemies, but none who would identify themselves openly. A distant cousin of mine is claiming rulership now, but he is... a bit simple," Sebastian explained, his face flushing as he put down his cousin. "He can be no more than a pawn in this plot."

Hawke brazenly nudged his arm with hers as they walked side by side toward the Chantry exit. "Surely you have a guess as to who was behind it."

"My parents were always... prudent... in how they handled our nobles. They did not allow rivalries or resentments to flourish. The attack must have come from outside. Kirkwall is our largest trading partner. I came back here to find support for my claim and perhaps for a clue as to who is behind this foul deed."

Why didn't your family's enemies hunt you down, as well?" Hawke wondered.

He smiled again, dazzling her. "That's why I took the offensive. Thanks to you, those Flint Company assassins are no longer a danger. I'm the last of my line. Unless I survive, my family will have no justice."

"Your parents probably don't care much at this point, but I hope you sleep a bit easier," Hawke said with a shrug.

As they approached the door, he laughed. The sound was like a bell, sweet and amused. "Yes, I hope I will. Thank you." He reached in a pouch at his belt and pulled out some coin. "Consider this an advance. When I have secured my lands again, you will be paid royally." He not only handed her the coin but smiled flirtatiously as he took her hand in his and gallantly kissed her knuckles. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must meet with the Viscount and petition him for aid to a fellow city."

He opened the large Chantry doors and held one open for Hawke to slip out and grin as she put a bit of extra sway in her hips on her way down the stairs to the market. She had always been a massive flirt back in Lothering, but never had so many responded to her advances the way that the folk in Kirkwall seemed to flock around her. It was encouraging and bolstered her already large ego.

There was a young blonde woman in the Chantry courtyard who was approaching every templar that passed by her and trying to ask them questions. They were mostly ignoring her and she sobbed desperately. Hawke was feeling charitable as she had with Arianni, and she moved to intercept the girl. "Please, can you help me? My brother..." the teary eyed girl pleaded as Hawke took her arm gently to draw her attention.

Hawke vaguely noticed Sebastian as he passed, watching intently as she offered her help. "Don't worry," Hawke said with a sweet smile. "Helping people and killing people are what I'm best at."

"Er, I uh... hope there will be no call to kill anyone, serah," the girl said nervously as she dried her tears on a sleeve before casting bright blue eyes on Hawke. "Keran was always so devout, so idealistic. He was so proud when the templars accepted him. I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen." Her tone changed and she glanced around warily. "You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone."

"What have you heard about the templars?" Hawke was always ready for a good snicker at the templars' expense. The stories got more and more wild as they were passed around.

"People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers by. My friend has a cousin who's a mage, and she says he was made tranquil against his will. You hear more with every passing day," the girl listed.

It was nothing Hawke hadn't heard before. "So you think the templars... what? Killed and ate your brother?" Hawke asked with a chuckle.

"Maker forbid," the girl gasped in horror. "I don't know what happened. He just stopped writing me. I tried to see him, but Knight-Commander Meredith threw me out. They won't tell me anything."

"Your brother may indeed be in trouble," Hawke mused. "What can I do for you?"

"Perchance in your journeys should you find yourself in the Gallows, ask the other recruits, Wilmod and Hugh, about my brother. They were Keran's closest friends in the Order. If anyone knows where he is, it's them." The girl curtseyed swiftly and said, "Maker bless you and watch after you in this endeavor."

Hawke nodded and stored the recruit's name in the back of her mind. Her day was booked after dark, and she didn't think it was as serious as the girl let on. She could always head back to the Gallows tomorrow. She left the girl and continued on to the market.

The streets were crowded with buyers, sellers and the occassional guard, but Aveline was not among them. It was likely she was somewhere in the keep being bored to tears in a training session. A light breeze was stirring up a light dusting of snow that had made it's way into the city, swirling the sparkling white flakes around Hawke's billowing cloak. She shuddered and pulled the cloak a bit more tightly around her shoulders. She discreetly stopped at a cloth vendor, knowing that in Lowtown, vendors like him normally had a secret stash of robes and magical items if you asked the right questions. Flapping in the breeze beside the stall was a slip of parchment, large enough to draw the eye, but not draw too much attention. She likely wouldn't have noticed it if it weren't for the wind crackling the paper. She smiled at the vendor and moved away from the stall to touch a finger to the note and hold it down so she could read it.

_REWARD OFFERED!_

_Citizens of Kirkwall:_

_My dear wife, Ninette, has gone missing. I shall reward the person who returns her safely._

_Questions about the Bounty or Ninette? Come speak to me in the Hightown Market._

_-Ghyslain de Carrac_

The note was so small, Hawke was having trouble believing that the man truly wanted his wife back, but it was coin. She let the note go to flap in the breeze again and glanced around. She spotted a man up on the small balcony overlooking the market speaking with a group of guards. She homed in on the conversation and heard the plea in his tone. This had to be her man. She jogged up the stairs to listen a bit more closely. "What do you mean you can't help me?" The man said in a thick Orlesian accent.

The middle guard of the three rolled his eyes and said slowly. "This is a domestic matter, serah. If your wife has chosen to leave you, there's nothing we can do."

"Ninette is my wife! She is legally bound to me. Bring her back!" the man growled, making Hawke almost second guess her decision to take on the case. What a wanker.

"We're done here," the guard said, waving his hand and walking off. The group passed Hawke and Ghyslain spotted her.

"Bah! Useless! Why are we still paying those sluggards?" he grunted, throwing his arms in the air.

She chuckled and said, "You should pay someone else. Like me. I like being paid."

"If you can find Ninette, I will glady pay you," he agreed desperately. "That foolish woman has caused me nothing but embarrassment. She needs to be dragged home." Hawke briefly sneered, but there was still the slight chance that the woman was actually in danger. A lot of people who went missing in Kirkwall did not do it by choice. "Her family is getting suspicious. They think I might have... done something to her. Even if... Well, I just want to make sure they know I didn't do it!"

Now she was definitely suspicious. If the woman's family didn't know where she was, she could very well be missing in earnest. Not that her husband gave a shit. He was just covering his own ass. "Why would her family think you did something to her?" Hawke asked, crossing her arms.

"They think I married her for her inheritence. And they know we've been fighting. They believe this is reason enough for me to hurt her. But I swear on Andraste's pyre, I have done nothing!"

Hawke sighed. "I'll try my best to find Ninette and bring her home," Hawke said, not specifying what home she might return her to.

"You should talk to Jethann at the Blooming Rose," he sneered, his fists balling up angrily. "I didn't know she visited whores until Jethann sent a letter. To our house! He even sent her flowers once. Lilies... her favorite." He threw his arms up again. "Bah! Talking about it makes my head hurt. Good luck to you, serah."

Hawke left him as he grumbled angrily to himself. She had plenty of time to pop into the Rose and see Jethann. She left the market, climbing the stairs up toward the dwarves' little collection of stalls by the giant paragon statues where Bartrand seemed to hang out most often. She hung a right past the statues and headed for the red lantern district. She never knew how to feel when heading into the brothel. She knew the owners because of the business she'd had to conduct with them while working for Athenril. They were Coterie.

The foyer was warm and inviting compared to the cold air outside, and Hawke flipped her cloak off her shoulders. Her boots thumped against the red carpets, the small bit of moisture from the snow left behind in the entryway. She attempted to ignore the fact that her uncle was sitting at the bar and moved to ask Madame Lusine where she could find Jethann. She was pointed upstairs to a small room that held not much more than a bed. It was fancy, as beds went though and standing at the foot of it was an elf with midnight blue eyes and shoulder length strawberry blone hair done up with braids on the sides. He was dressed plainly and if she had seen him anywhere else, she would not have pegged him as a courtesan. When she approached him, he cocked his hips and smirked, those large eyes touching every bit of her. "Today's my rest day, but I'll make an exception for you. What can I say? Why work if you're not working _hard_?"

"I can see why Ninette liked you. You're fiesty," Hawke said with a chuckle, crossing her arms and settling into her hips.

He chuckled. " 'A refreshing change from the pale slug I married'. I hear she finally left her worthless husband. Good for her. I just wish she'd said goodbye."

Hawke took in the small glimmer of disappointment in the elf's eyes and asked the question. "Were you hoping Ninette would leave Ghyslain for you?"

He turned a grin on her. "Of course not. I know my place. I offer a service, that's all. Anyway, there was someone else looking for Ninette. A templar. I believe his name was Emeric." His eyes roved Hawke and her defensive arms over her chest again. " _He_ wouldn't sleep with me either. I can't see why a templar would be interested in anyone who isn't a mage."

"Any chance Ninette's an apostate?" Hawke wondered.

"Well, she certainly cast a spell on me," he said with a suggestive grunt and a lude gesture. "Anyway, if Ninette was a mage, I think Emeric would have said so."

"Someone else Ninette spent special alone time with, perhaps?" Hawke chuckled.

"She always liked men in uniform. You could ask him yourself. Emeric said he'd continue his investigation in Darktown. You could see if he's still there. And if you find Ninette, tell her to drop by and see me sometime," he smirked, thrusting his hips forward.

Hawke left with a chuckle. Chasing a templar into Darktown was a bad idea on her own. Since she was already in Hightown, she diverted to Fenris' mansion, knocking lightly on the door. Working jobs together was how she had gotten to know most of her companions. He should be no different. When he answered the door smelling only like Lyrium and not booze, she cocked her hip and smiled. "How would you like a free trip into Darktown?"

One dark brow rose in question and he said, "Why?"

She shrugged. "I have a quick job, and my brother is currently on the hate side of our love/hate relationship. I thought maybe you could bring your big sword and help me scowl at the filth of the undercity... unless you're too comfortable in your nice big mansion."

He harrumphed. "Let me get my things."

She followed him in and waited in the foyer. The look of the place had not improved much since she had left the last time. She was certain he had practiced his swordwork on a few of the paintings hanging crookedly from the walls. He reappeared, his gauntlets and breastplate in place and his sword on his back. She took in the severity of him and discreetly bit her lip as she turned away. His dark and broody act was really working for her. "Let's go. I'm going to pick up a few more friends on our way through Lowtown. Have you been to the Hanged Man yet?"

"No," he said as he followed her out a closed the door behind him.

"Oh, you're going to love it," she said with a chuckle. "It's my favorite place to drink. I know you prefer your squatters palace, but it's no fun drinking alone."

He grunted out what she thought might be a chuckle, but when she glanced in his direction as he followed behind her, he was back to his usual resting brood face. He had been a chatty drunk, but sober, he was an elf of few words. She led them quietly through Hightown and down into the Lowtown Bazaar, past the merchants and down into the lower market. The Hanged Man stood at the top of the next set of stairs and Fenris glanced up at the dangling dummy and cocked his head. "I don't get it."

Hawke snorted. "Me neither." She pushed the door open into the warmth of the tavern and immediately spotted Varric and Isabela chatting amiably by the fire at her table. "You're in my seat, Izzy," Hawke pointed out as she sidled up to them.

Isabela glanced around her at the silent shadow that was Fenris and smirked apreciatively. "Are you going to move me, poppet?"

Hawke returned the flirtatious grin and crossed her arms. "As much as I would love to move you upstairs, I have a templar to find in Darktown. Would either of you like to join us?"

"Bianca's always up for an adventure," Varric agreed, finishing off his drink and slipping into his coat that had been hanging on the back of his chair.

Isabela stood as well, and Hawke raised a brow. "It's a tit nipply out there, Izzy. You may wish to... throw on a few layers."

"Oh, did that hurt you to say that?" Isabela said with a purring chuckle.

"Just a little slap to my libido. I have enough to spare. I should be alright," Hawke said with her own chuckle.

Fenris absorbed the entire conversation without a word of his own. Isabela disappeared upstairs and returned quickly. She had slipped a pair of leggings under her tall boots and pulled a long blue coat on over her top that she left open so Hawke still had a miraculous view of her large breasts. "Ready," she said with a smirk.

Hawke reached over and untucked her hair from the collar of the coat, letting it fall back into place before saying, "Okay. Let's go find us a templar."

The trek through Darktown was much like it usually was. Smelly and disgusting. Luckily none of the snow that was plaguing the open air streets above had made it into the old mining tunnels that made up Darktown yet. The cold was there though. It was turning the mud on the streets hard and making walking through the hundreds of permanent footprints of the residents difficult as the ground became bumpy.

By the time they stumbled on Emeric by using the vague reports of a few people that Hawke stopped to ask, it was getting late. If the hunt for Ninette led anywhere else, she would need to put it off for tomorrow. Anders would be waiting. Emeric was down on his knees, barely fighting off a group of thugs who had apparently claimed that particular section of the sewers as their own. Hawke drew her daggers and lept into the fray, using her magic only to add a bit of extra bite to her blades. No use in blatantly casting in front of a templar. When they had killed or chased off the last of the thugs, Hawke helped Emeric to his feet. "I thank you, serah, for coming along when you did. I am Emeric," he said gratefully, unaware that she had found him on purpose.

"You're older than I thought you'd be," Hawke said with a smirk, helping him brush off his armor and taking note of his silver hair and aged features. "Ninette seems to go for the young pointy eared sorts."

"What?" Emeric said with a frown, mildly insulted.

"Ninette de Carrac. I hear she got around. And you were asking about her, so I just... assumed," Hawke continued to grin as she crossed her arms.

"Preposterous!" Emeric said, more than mildly insulted now. "I was concerned that she was in danger, and that is all! However, the investigation has been a waste of time."

"That sort of attitude will never pay off," Hawke chuckled.

"Ha!" Emeric barked. "I was eager at first, but failure has leeched all enthusiasm from me. This all started when Mharen, one of our Circle mages, disappeared. I found it odd. She was a bit older and hardly adventurous. Then I heard about Ninette and two other missing women."

Varric started to laugh and said, "I had a friend who disappeared once. Turns out he was under my bed, drunk." When Fenris turned a glare on him, he shrugged. "What?"

"I think the disappearances are connected," Emeric said, ignoring the interruption. "And I suspect foul play is involved."

"Doesn't the Circle use phylacteries to keep track of it's mages?" Hawke asked with a frown, wondering how they had 'lost' a Circle mage.

"We followed her phylactery to a foundry, but found nothing," Emeric said with a nod. "I had heard of sympathizers smuggling mages through Darktown, so came here hoping to pick up the trail. But I found no trace of Mharen, and as you've seen, asking the locals hasn't made me very popular."

Hawke grunted. It likely wasn't the asking, but the shiny templar plate he was wearing. "Can I assist your investigation?"

"It's no longer my investigation, serah. You may take over, if you wish. This battle's showed that I am no longer the warrior I used to be. I know when to walk away. Here, take my findings. Perhaps you can make more use of them. I'm going back to the Gallows. I'm too old for this." Emeric handed her a slip of parchment with the address to the foundry in Lowtown where they had tracked Mharen's phylactery to and left quickly.

Hawke needed to get going as well. Night was creeping up on her and she still had to get all of the way back up to the Chantry. She stuffed the address in her pocket and hurried from Darktown.

 

Hightown was even colder at night and Hawke shivered as she said goodnight to Fenris. He was curious why she was sending him home, but she was certain that with his distaste for mages, he would not be much of an asset in rescuing Anders' friend. Carver was waiting by the Chanter's board, huddled in his cloak with Alfie at his side. When the dog saw Hawke, he stood and barked once, the sound echoing noisily in the empty streets. She shushed him, as he bounded up to her, and patted his head. "Come on. It's getting late."

She took the stairs up to the Chantry doors two at a time, her eyes scanning every dark corner for an ambush. Anders was waiting at the top of the stairs, huddled in the nook that formed the doorway out of the wind. She approached him with a smile, seeing him for the first time outside of Clinic. The moonlight cast a light over his features and he was breathtaking, in spite of his haggard upkeep and the light circles under his eyes. It made her want to take care of him. He obviously needed someone to remind him to take a breath every now and then. He spotted her and a small smile crept onto his face. "I saw Karl go in a few minutes ago. No templars so far. Are you ready?"

"I didn't see anyone suspicious out here," she agreed. "Let's do this fast."

"All right. I'll do the talking. You watch for templars," he said, opening the heavy doors.

They stepped inside and Hawke reveled in the loss of the biting cold. Still wary, she kept a close eye out as they passed through the long hallway towards the main pulpit. There was a fireplace lit up the stairs to their right, and Anders diverted in that direction. A man stood with his back to them in front of the fire and a small relieved sigh escaped Anders as his long legs stepped ahead of her. Had she really been walking that closely to him? "Anders, I know you too well," the man said in a dreary monotone that made Hawke pause a ways back from him as Anders approached him at a brisk walk. "I knew you would never give up."

"What's wrong?" Anders demanded fearfully. "Why are you talking like..."

His words were cut off as the man turned to face them and the Chantry brand stood out, freshly burned into his forehead. Hawke cringed as a choked sound escaped Anders. "I was too rebellious. Like you. The templars knew I had to be... made an example of."

"No!" Anders cried, approaching the man and touching his cheek as a lover might caress their partner.

"How else will mages ever master themselves?" Karl said, not a single touch of emotion seeping into the monotone. "You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself." Hawke felt the ambush via a prickling at the back of her neck. She spun around, backing towards Anders and the tranquil. Anders' hand fell from Karl's face and he was at her side. "This is the apostate," Karl said, lifting a lazy finger to point at Anders.

"No!" Anders growled again. When Hawke chanced a glance at him, her breath was stolen by both the sudden change in his eyes as well as a sharp tug on the veil around them. He fell to his knees and the glow of blue in his eyes stretched around him to encompass his entire body. He grabbed his own head, curling around himself as his skin cracked and the bright light shone through. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet again, a changed man. He glowed like the sun, magical blue flames erupting around him and Hawke had to look away as he shouted in anger. His voice was deep and gravely, a far cry from the gentle hum of his Ferelden accent. "You will never take another mage as you took him!"

He lashed out at the templars as several attempts to bring down a Holy smite on him were shrugged off. Hawke danced out of range of the templar skills and assessed their numbers. She counted at least a dozen. She was not a good enough rogue to even attempt to draw her daggers and fight off that many attackers. She summoned her mana, drawing from the over flow of Fade energy that Anders had somehow drawn around them. Carver was hesitant, but when he saw her begin to call her magic, he lept into the fray with his greatsword. Isabela, Varric and Alfie were already defending themselves. She twisted her fingers, wishing she had brought her staff and then pushed the mana from her chest. The glyph formed in the air before her and with a burst of temper, the fireballs shot out in all directions, slamming into several of the templars. She followed it immediately with a Fist of the Maker, grabbing hold of the air around them and jerking her hand downwards to flatten three of the templars that were grouped together trying to avoid Isabela's backstab. Another templar rushed her and she dodged out of the way of his sword as it swiped downwards. He caught her on the arm, slicing a gash in her shoulder before she jutted her opposite hand forward to hit him in the gut with a stonefist. He stumbled backwards and she shocked him with a bolt of lightning that she chained across the makeshift battle field to leave heavy scorch marks along the floor wherever a templar stood. She noticed Anders take a brief look at her as the cracks in his skin closed and the glow left his eyes when the final templar fell under her magic. The honey brown of his eyes was back as he realized she was a mage. Before he could say a word, Karl spoke, drawing him around to assess the situation. "I... Anders, what did you do?" he paused and looked down at his own hands. The brand still blazed on his forehead, but he was speaking with inflection. "It's like... you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like."

Hawke nodded her agreement. "What _did_ you do?" she asked Anders, her shock and curiosity drawing her interest to a head. "Not the Fade part... they angry glowing bit."

Karl spoke again before Anders could explain himself. "It's like a gateway to the Fade inside you. Glowing like a beacon."

"I have... some unique circumstances, yes," Anders said evasively, his eyes landing briefly on Hawke as she looked on in interest. The fact that she had not run away screaming seemed to push him ahead. "But, Karl, what happened? How did they get you?"

"The templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden. They found a letter I was writing you," Karl explained as Anders took his hand carefully. "You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world. Gone," he sighed sadly, clutching to Anders' hand. "I would gladly give up my magic, but this? I'll never be whole again." His eyes rose from the floor and stared wildly at Anders. "Please, kill me before I forget again! I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading."

"Karl, no!" Anders sobbed, moving to touch the man's face again.

Hawke stepped in, clutching to Anders' bicep. "I would rather die than be Tranquil. Help him." She could feel her own heart breaking as Anders met her fearful gaze and a single tear slipped from his eye and down his cheek.

He returned his gaze to Karl and blinked quickly, swallowing. "I got here too late. I'm sorry, Karl. I'm so sorry." His hand dropped from Karl's face and reached around his back. Hawke heard him draw the knife.

"Now! It's fading..." Karl said desperately. Hawke watched the light leave his eyes as the Tranquility returned. He cocked his head. "Why do you look at me like that?"

Anders pulled him into a hug and whispered, "Goodbye." Karl's body jerked and his gasp overpowered Anders' heartbreaking sob. He held onto Karl as he fell, gently lying him on the floor. Then he stood, turning to walk solemnly past Hawke. "We should leave before more templars come."

Hawke followed him from a distance, giving him his space to breathe, but feeling the need to be sure he made it back to his clinic in one piece. She shooed the others with a wave of her hand, keeping Alfie at her heel as they passed through Lowtown. She worked all possible scenarios out in her mind and landed on one disturbing truth about Anders. She kept it to herself until he had opened the door to his clinic, leaving the glow of the lanterns off. He left the door open however, knowing she had followed him and she stepped in quietly and closed the door behind her so they would be alone. He had moved to the far back and through another door. He was setting his staff carefully in an alcove near the tattered bed, a single candle lighting his face as he sat heavily down in an old wingback chair in the opposite corner. She leaned casually on the doorframe, crossing her arms and understanding he was hurting, but she needed to know the truth. "So let me guess. This is the part where you tell me you're an abomination?"

"You're wrong," he said softly. "But not far wrong. I..." he paused and looked up at her, holding out his hand to offer her a seat on the bed. She moved into his personal space and took the seat, curiosity outweighing any fear she might be harboring. "This is hard to explain," he confessed. "When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face everyday."

"And that's... different from a demon?" she asked. Her father had taught her everything he knew about magic, but he had always warned her away from spirits, telling her that the Fade was a dangerous place where her wits were all she would have for protection. She realized that all of the harping on that subject that he had done was likely why she wrapped herself in the blanket of sarcasm, and why she asked so many questions before making a decision about anyone or anything.

"Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues," he explained calmly, his sadness slowly dripping away as he revealed himself to her. "Spirits of compassion, fortitude... justice. They are the Maker's first children, and they have all but given up on us."

"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?" she asked softly, fearing she already knew the answer.

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him... We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But..." he sighed, glancing down at his hands, looking at his long thin fingers as if they were covered in blood. "I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he... changed."

"So you have this spirit of justice living in your head?" she said, drawing his eyes back to her. In the dim lighting, it was difficult to discern his expression.

"It's not like that. He's gone now. He's part of me. It's not like we can... have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own. Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and he begins."

"That really didn't look like a happy, benvolent spirit from where I was standing," she pointed out.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Since when is justice happy? Justice is righteous. Justice is hard. But my anger..." he sighed and let his fists loose. "When I see templars now, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about... He comes out. And he is no longer my friend, Justice. He is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."

He was struggling with himself, that much was clear. He had meant well in taking on Justice. She felt the comment slip from her lips as she studied his profile in the candle light. "So, that explains your whole sexy tortured look."

When his eyes shot back to her, she almost reached up and covered her mouth, but the surprised look on his face was not upset, but intrigued. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often," he said, clearing his throat and sitting a bit straighter. "I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said..." After studying her for a moment, he smiled. "My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition," he offered, standing and then kneeling by a bag on the floor. He pulled out a couple of scrolls and handed them to her. "I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me, I will be waiting here."

She stood and moved to stand beside him with a smile of her own. When she took the scrolls and her fingers brushed his, a small jolt of electricity jumped between them and he grinned, holding on to the maps a bit longer than necessary as he mingled their magic. "Would it be okay if I stopped by tomorrow? I have a few things to take care of around the city and I hate to wander around alone," she said, as her heart began to thump.

"I'll gladly tag along if the clinic isn't too busy," he agreed, finally letting go of the scrolls. When she twisted to secure them in her belt, she hissed, remembering the slice in her shoulder as the movement pulled it open. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"One of the templars got a bit too friendly with his sword. It's no big deal," she said, calling her healing magic to reach for the wound.

He stopped her, taking her hand in his. "Allow me," he offered, his hand already blue as he lifted it to her shoulder, gently brushing the ruined cloth of her tunic aside. His magic rippled over her skin, the sensation of the wound knitting back together warming her chest. He was a powerful healer. "Even with everything that happened tonight, I was still surprised to find out you were a mage. Why do you hide yourself?" he asked softly as she reigned in her own mana. He was standing awfully close.

"I'm certainly not ashamed," she said with a nervous snort. "It's just easier to move through the city when every last templar isn't staring at your staff. I need to be sure I can keep my family safe. I can't do that from the Gallows."

"True enough," he said and then frowned slightly as his magic faded and cast them into shadow again. "You know, we've had a very serious conversation, I've told you about my cat, and I've healed your shoulder, but I don't think in all this time, that your name ever came up."

"Hawke," she said with a chuckle. "Marian Hawke."

He cocked his head. "Beautiful and harsh. It suits you."

She was glad he likely couldn't see the flush in her cheeks as she took a step away from him. "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning," she grinned, her hips responding to his flirtatious banter as she backed out of his bedroom and into the open air of the clinic.

The wind whipping around outside was a welcome chill against her skin. He had gotten her more than a little hot and bothered. _Maker, that smile._ Life in Kirkwall was getting interesting.

 


	5. Demons, Qunari, and Wintersday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke helps out the Templars and then gets into a bloody situation with the Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast just before Wintersday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wintersday party was one of my favorite pieces of fluff to write. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much.

She had promised Carver that she didn't need his help, but he had invited himself along anyway. Varric joined them at breakfast while she sipped her apple tea, and then she had swung by the clinic to pick up Anders. She had brought her staff, concealed of course, but he identified it immediately, moving to walk beside her and ask about the spell she had used.

After the foundry from Emeric's investigation turned up no more than a sack full of bones and a gold Orlesian wedding band, that they discovered after setting off a trap that summoned shades that attacked them, Hawke sighed and resolved herself to having to visit Emeric with the dead end. She pocketed the ring for Ghyslain and hefted the sack to bring to the templar. She hoped he would be in the Courtyard. Asking for him at the door felt like asking for trouble.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him standing guard near one of the hunched over bronze statues by the entry stairs. "Recognize your mage?" she asked, handing him the bones. "This was left in the foundry you mentioned in your notes. I was also attacked by shades."

"These are human bones," he said with a grunt as he looked in the sack. Then he sighed deeply. "Then there is no chance of finding Mharen alive... or any of the others."

"If they're not dead, watch out for a bunch of boneless women flopping through the streets," Hawke said with a chuckle.

"Show some respect!" Emeric growled as both Anders and Varric snickered behind her and Carver groaned. "I will bring this to the city guard immediately. It should be enough to convince them the disappearances are worth investigating."

He left them without another word after shoving a few coins in her hands for her trouble. "Some people have no sense of humor," Anders said in mock suprise.

Hawke moved through the Gallows remembering the young woman that she had spoken to outside the Chantry, and looked for the youngest templars she could find. "Do you know a recruit named Keran? His sister is looking for him," she said, inserting herself into the group of three kids no older than Carver.

The single female of the group crossed her arms and glared. "We cannot speak to you, messere."

"Proably for the best, sister," Carver muttered as his eyes flicked between her and Anders.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as well. "To the Void with that," another of the recruits growled. "Keran and the others are missing."

"But our orders!" the third said nervously, his out of place mustache bristling.

The chatty one stepped forward. "The Knights aren't doing anything to find them. Maybe it's time to ask for outside help."

Hawke uncrossed her arms. "I wan't even certain Keran was missing. Who else is gone?"

"The first ones disappeared weeks ago. There's been at least half a dozen," he admitted. "Wilmod and Keran were the most recent."

"Why must you keep silent about Keran?" she wondered as the other two continued to chafe at her questions.

"You obviously aren't a templar, messere," mustache said.

"And your point is?" Carver asked threateningly. No one here knew she was a mage and she wished he would stop acting so shady.

"A Knight-Lieutenant gives you an order and you obey. Without question," the chatty boy said. "They told us not to breathe a word about Keran and the others."

"They must have their reasons," the female insisted.

"And that'll be a great comfort if you go missing next," he grumbled.

"You're already defying orders to talk to me," Hawke pointed out. "Might as well share the good stuff..."

Mustache lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "I hear that Knight-Commander Meredith has some new initiation you have to go through. If you're not strong enough, or fervent enough in belief, you don't make it out alive."

Anders grunted behind her and she stiffened. "It sounds brutal... and effective," Carver said, drawing her surprised gaze on him.

"And you honestly believe that?" the female scoffed.

"Recruits keep going missing," the chatty male said with a shrug.

"Wilmod came back," the girl informed them.

"What?!" he asked in shock.

"He did," she nodded. "I saw him this morning."

"What else do you know about the initiation?" Hawke asked mustache.

"You hear about some... questionable things that the Order must do these days. The Knight-Commander only wants templars that can do what must be done."

"Andraste alive! She's killing recruits that might question her orders, isn't she?" chatty gasped.

"That's rubbish. She wouldn't do that," the girl scoffed again.

Hawke interrupted with a raised hand. "If Wilmod came back, he might know more about the other missing recruits."

"I bet he would," chatty agreed.

"Wilmod told me he was going outside Kirkwall. 'Clear his head', he said," the girl told her.

"Why didn't you tell us this?" chatty asked, whirling on the girl.

"Knight-Captain Cullen ordered it. Right before he chased after Wilmod," she sighed. "That wasn't too long ago. If you hurry, you may catch them on the road."

With a hurried thanks, Hawke left the Gallows quickly to leave the city. She knew the routes out of Kirkwall almost as well as she knew the city itself. If Wilmod was up to something shady, he would likely be heading for the coast to escape. She practically jogged along the road, only slowing when Varric complained. Anders had kept up easily on his long legs and Carver lagged behind because he seemed to want no parts of this investigation. Even if these were templar recruits, they were still just kids. Whatever was happening, she wanted to expose it.

Suddenly, around a curve in the road, she heard shouting. She came around the bend and saw a young man that was likely Wilmod being shaken violently by another, very angry looking man. They were both in Templar plate, the second man likely Meredith's second in command. He was tall with wavy blonde hair that was cropped short and combed back off his face. A single strand had come loose to fall in his eyes as he raged at the recruit. His face was handsomely built, his features chisled. He was distinctly Ferelden, the blonde hair and amber eyes marking him as such even without the accent which she heard as he shouted. "Andraste be my witness, Wilmod, I will have the truth from you. Now!"

The younger man cowered, his hands up between them. "Mercy, ser, mercy!"

"Were it that easy," he growled, shaking him again.

"Don't hit me!" The young man pleaded.

Instead of hitting him, he took his knee and rammed it into his gut, dropping him to his knees. Then he took a step back and drew his sword down on the recruit as he gasped for breath. "I will know where you're going... and I will know, now!" he shouted, brandishing the sword.

Hawke made her presence known, raising her outraged voice over the shouting. "I thought templars only treated mages this badly. Nice to see you're branching out."

Carver grabbed her arm. "It's the blasted Knight-Captain. Don't!"

"This is templar business, stranger," the Captain said over his shoulder, one eye still on Wilmod as Hawke snatched her arm from Carver's grip.

They vigil was pointless as the boy got to his feet and backed away with a sinister laugh that made Hawke groan. "You have struck me for the last time, you pathetic human! To me!" he shouted in a voice that was definitely not his own from a moment ago. A flash of light drew Hawke's arm up to shield her eyes as his armor flew off in several directions as his body transformed into a twisted and gnarled abomination. Hawke gaped for a split second as several shades also appeared, summoned by the demon. "Maker," she whispered softly while drawing her blades. She wasn't certain how to handle shades without her magic.

"Maker preserve us," the captain reiterated, drawing his shield.

Carver jumped into the fray and bolts were flying from Bianca. Anders uncaringly was throwing spells into the mix and Hawke gritted her teeth and dove into the cacophany. She was slicing out with her daggers, left and right when suddenly, all of the air was sucked from her lungs. She dropped to the ground, gasping as the templar's smite hit her square in the chest. She had been too close to the shades. Sloppy. She curled around herself, her breath slowly returning as the Wilmod abomination ran at her, claws extended. He swiped down at her, slicing three long marks along her thigh and then with the other hand across her back. She cried out in agony as the frigid air hit her fresh wounds. She heard some one call her name and she cringed, knowing that not only was she ousted as a mage to the Knight-Captain, but now he had a name to go with her face. "Hawke!"

The abomination drew back to swipe again, but she yanked her dagger from underneath her where it had fallen and beat him to the punch. She took his hand and as he reeled, she dragged herself to her feet, rolling away from the spray of blood coming from his stump. She felt healing magic wash over her and she glanced to Anders who was casting from all of the way across the battlefield. He was an even more powerful healer than she thought. She concentrated on her breathing as she took out a vial of Lyrium with shaky hands when Carver drew the abomination's attention off of her.

The mana washed over her and she sighed in relief as she felt her reserves building back up. By the time she could cast, however, the situation was dealt with. Cullen jogged over to her and miraculously checked over her for wounds before Anders stepped in to touch her hand and slip her another healing spell to finish what he had started. Hawke eyed the Knight-Captain as he shook his head, looking around at the body of the abomination and gently taking her arm and moving her out of the way before it exploded. "I knew... I knew he was involved in something sinister," he growled. "But this..." he paced away from her and his shoulders slumped making his plate armor clink noisily. "Is it even possible?"

"With what I've bumped into in Kirkwall, nothing surprises me anymore," she said with a sigh, squeezing Anders' forearm in thanks.

He returned his attention to her and stood straighter. "I am Knight-Captain Cullen. I thank you for your assistance. I have been conducting an investigation of some of our recruits who have gone missing. Wilmod was the first to return." He indicated their surroundings. "I had hoped to confront him quietly, out of sight."

"Maybe next time you should try confronting him loudly, in public," she said with a smirk. _He's not openly hostile. Endear him._

With a small lopsided smirk that was quickly wiped away, he said, "I fear it is time to widen the investigation. My discretion may have cost me one of our best recruits... Wilmod's friend Keran. They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose, but I had no luck interogating the... uh..." his arm lifted and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he chose his words carefully. "Young ladies... there. I doubt they know anything of magic or demons." he hung his head in defeat as Hawke snorted.

"I'd be willing to search there," she offered softly, testing the waters of his opinion of her. Perhaps if she did him a favor he might do her one in return.

"The Order would truly be in your debt if you helped us with this," he said with a nod after a brief scan of her person with his eyes. "No one at the brothel will speak with me for fear I would shut them down for serving our recruits." He approached her slowly and held out a hand. "If you learn what manner of creature did this to Wilmod, please come tell me in the Gallows. I will ensure you are rewarded."

She took his offered hand and his word. He did not seem the sort who would lie just to trap her. He left them on their own and Anders turned her to him to give her closed wounds a once over. "I can see you're going to be a full time project," he said with a light grin.

She shrugged. "I tend to attract danger on a regular basis."

"Good to know," he said with a chuckle. "Do you think the Captain was telling the truth?"

"He _could_ have killed us right here. I think all he wants is his recruit returned safely," she shrugged again. "Let's get back to the city. I need to get cleaned up."

 

"Aaand here we are in the brothel," Hawke said wistfully as they stepped into the foyer. "My day is complete."

They had made their way back from the coast and Hawke had changed her clothes and kept her staff. Somehow it made her feel safer if they were going to be going up against any manner of mages or demons. She'd been hurt twice now in as many days because she had tried to play the rogue. Not to mention, the second most powerful templar in Kirkwall knew her secret. How much worse could it get? Anders stepped up beside her and grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest. "If someone here tries to hire me again, I'm leaving."

Hawke glanced over at him and smirked. "How much would that ride cost, exactly?"

He cocked his own smirk at her and his eyes brightened. "You couldn't afford me, sweetheart."

"Apparently I've been going about gathering coin improperly," she said with a chuckle before striding away and into the common room. She approached an idle worker standing by an open ledger, recognizing her from a previous visit. Viveka. She had short boxy hair that hung limply around her face, with way too short bangs that made her large eyes the attention grabber on her face and that was not a good thing.

"Do you need something, honey?" the girl asked as Hawke tried not to wrinkle her nose.

Hawke cleared her throat and put herself into investigator mode. "A couple of templar recruits went missing. Wilmod and Keran. They were last seen here..." she suggested.

Viveka pressed her lips together, emphasizing the fact that they were too thin and her nose was too wide. "You'll have to be specific. We do a lot of business with the templars."

"The templars are the ones who want this information," Hawke said in exasperation.

"We make a lot of money off of nervous templars that expect some privacy," she insisted shortly.

"I'll be discreet," Hawke assured her.

The girl's eyes rolled and she turned the ledger toward her. "Let me look through the books. "Wilmod... Keran... Here we go. Wilmod came in here a lot. You sure he had time to be a templar?" the girl asked with a glance at Hawke through her lashes. "The both of them last saw..." she paused and her eyes rolled again as she mockingly said the other girl's name. " 'Idunna the Exotic Wonder from the East'. "

"That's quite the stage name," Hawke said, with a snort.

"It sounds better than 'the tramp from Darktown'," Viveka said with a shrug. "You should hear what some of the others are called." She flipped the ledger closed.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Hawke asked.

"Honey, I could write volumes on the things I know. Unless you want Wilmod's favorite position, I think you have what you need." She narrowed her large eyes and sat a bit further forward. "You didn't hear any of this from me. We clear?" She pointed Hawke to the room where she would find Idunna and Hawke nodded her thanks. She was across the hall from Jethann, and Hawke was tempted to go in and tell him about finding Ninette's hand, but his door was closed.

She slipped in Idunna's open door and a woman was standing alone in the middle of the room as if she were waiting for something. Hawke approached her back, taking in her fancy, well tailored dress before saying, "You must be the 'Exotic Wonder of the East'." Anders and Varric snickered as they stepped up at her back, Carver lingering near the door. As the woman spun to gaze at Hawke, Hawke took in the fact that she was much more well suited to her profession than Viveka. She was dangerously beautiful with striking ice blue eyes and dark red hair. She held herself with confidence and her eyes drew you in. "Do you remember 'entertaining' a templar named Wilmod a few weeks ago? Or Keran?"

The woman frowned. "Wilmod, Wilmod. That doesn't sound familiar," she purred coyly, tapping a fingertip on her lips.

Hawke crossed her arms. "Do your clients like this charade? It must get dreadfully tiresome."

"Wh-whatever do you mean?" she asked, clearly taken aback by the fact that Hawke wasn't buying her act. She turned away and Hawke thought she felt a touch of mana as Idunna walked gracefully to the bed and sat on the edge, rubbing her hand over the sheets beside her. "Questions are boring. Why don't we have some real fun?"

"Hawke," Varric said, stepping closer to the foot of the bed. "go easy on this lovely... creature."

"You should listen to your friend," Idunna said suggestively.

"We have to ask her about Keran," Hawke hissed as she glanced at her companions and realized they were all staring intently at the 'Exotic Wonder'. "What's your problem?"

"Yes, yes," Varric said dismissively. "But certainly there's no harm mixing a little business and pleasure."

Hawke frowned and returned her attention back to Idunna. "As charming and relentless as you are, I'm here to investigate."

"Answer one of _my_ questions first," Idunna insisted. "Who told you about little old me?"

Hawke lifted a finger to tell her off, but the caress of mana filled the room again and when she made eye contact, suddenly Hawke had no control over her own mouth. "It was... Viveka. She showed me... her books."

Hawke fought the control as Idunna stood with a smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" Her magic was powerful. "So Viveka sold me out, did she? That drab pathetic little sewer rat. She will be dealt with," Idunna threatened, giving Hawke another moment to regain some semblance of herself around the fog in her mind. "Just do one more thing for me. Draw your blade, and bring it gently across your throat." Idunna mimed with her own hand what she wished Hawke to do.

The blade was in Hawke's hand and her arm shuddered as she fought. She stared angrily at Idunna through the fog, delving deep into herself to find her own will that had been smothered by Idunna's magic. She felt the cold press of steel against her neck as the first drops of blood rolled down her skin. "I will not..." she grunted, her own magic railing against the surface to protect her. "Be toyed with!" she yanked the blade down from her neck and broke the eye contact with Idunna.

"How did you...? Oh, shit!" Idunna stumbled backwards, dropping to her knees to plead as Hawke now held the knife on her. "Spare me, messere."

"You're going to answer all my questions. And if there is even a hint of magic..." Hawke pushed the knife toward her.

"Tarohne put me here," she confessed, her entire plot slipping out in seconds. "To send biddable templar recruits to the sanctuary. Three Spear Alley, in the undercity. I enchanted Wilmod and Keran weeks ago. But after they left these walls, I know not what came of them. Please, let me live. It's not my fault. It was all Tarohne's idea."

Hawke looked down at the pleading woman and her heart raced as she realized what she had nearly made her do. "You're just too dangerous." She lashed out before Idunna had a chance to plead again, or work her magic again. The knife slipped easily across the girl's throat and she fell, choking on her own blood, bleeding out quickly.

Hawke reached up and touched her own throat where the knife had drawn blood. Varric grunted as he realized he'd been messed with. "Next stop the sanctuary, and some answers."

 

They climbed down into Three Spear Alley, Carver dropping in last off the ladder. Anders was beside her, scanning the area. It was a desolate alley, thankfully not a sewer, but part of the old abandoned mines that still ran underneath almost every inch of Kirkwall. "We should move carefully. Maker knows what this many blood mages have summoned to protect themselves." Anders warned. Hawke pulled her staff from her hip and drew it to full size, allowing it's comforting hum to fill her senses before she proceeded into the tunnels held up by rotting bits of wood. The sound of trickling dirt made her nervous about the stability of the ceiling. She twirled the staff between her fingers as she walked. Anders chuckled. "You look so much more comfortable when you allow yourself to do what is natural."

She didn't have a chance to reply as a massive demon of rage crawled it's way out of the ground at her feet. She danced away from the bubbling pool of lava that shaped itself into something vaguely man like and swiped at her with viscious burning claws. "I can't fight this thing!" she shouted to Anders, revealing that her frost mastery was nowhere near mastered. He stepped in, taking her arm and moving her out of the way so he could congure a cone of cold. The icy stalagmites jutted from the floor before him piercing the demon and holding it in place so he could flip his staff end over end, shooting small shards of ice from the tips into it's body. She took over fighting the rest of the shades that made themselves known all around the area, her lightning and flames dealing heaps of damage all around. When the last demon fell, she sighed. "Thanks."

"You can't do frost spells?" he asked, one of his brows raised in question.

She shrugged. "I can, but not at the level that you were weilding it. My fire and lightning are much more advanced."

"Father used to say it was because she was such a harridan," Carver grunted.

"You kiss our mother with that mouth?" Hawke scolded, continuing into the sanctuary on full alert and earning a chuckle from Varric.

They were attacked endlessly between the entrance and the small cavern where they found a young man suspended in a stasis spell wearing nothing but a pair of winter small clothes. Hawke cocked her head and was about to lift a hand to touch and dispel the enchantment when a group of mages stepped into the open. She dropped her hand and crossed her arms. The woman at the forefront of the group wore sky blue robes, her light brown hair gently touching her shoulders as she moved. Her eyes were a strange shade of green that did not blend well with the questionable choice to wear lipstick the same color as her robes. "How wonderful. More vessels for our experiments."

"Where is Keran?" Hawke demanded, figuring that it was likely him hanging suspended in the spell.

"Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable," the woman mused, her finger tapping her chin.

"Always the demon thing. Can't you people say 'no'?" Anders quipped, his tone both mocking and a little bit sad.

His comment drew her ire. "I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to a demon... I sought them out and embraced them!" she shouted.

Hawke tossed her thumb over her shoulder and said confidently. "You do know I cut a path through your abominations, right?" She was no easy prey.

"Good, good," the woman giggled maniacally. "The demons like spirit. If a few more templars fall to the demons, we can seed chaos in their ranks! How many abominations can they discover amongst their own before it drives the Knight-Commander crazy?"

"Good to know you're barking mad," Hawke quipped. "That makes things easier." She drew her staff, waiting.

"In days of old, the Tevinter Imperium spanned the known world. Demons were their allies... held in check by power and knowledge. With the wave of a hand, I could do more than a templar could achieve in a lifetime. Yet they command us? Absurd! We should be ruling them! We should rule you all!" She drew her own staff and took a fighting stance. "Kill the vessels only if you must!"

Hawke was ready for her. She slammed her with a stonefist, knocking her back into the glyph she'd drawn with her eyes as the woman ranted. Then she thrust mana into the glyph to activate it. The crushing prison rose up around the woman and began to close in on her. It wouldn't be enough to kill her, but it would contain her while they dealt with the rest of the threats. Tarohne's flunkies were turning into abominations left and right, the bright flashes of magic almost blinding. Hawke added her own light show, conjuring a tempest all around them. The bolts of lightning slowed some of the abominations and killed others. The ones that escaped she systematically flung fireball after fireball into, lighting their vulnerable flesh on fire. Anders and Carver were occupied with a desire demon that floated around the field, releasing shockwaves of energy that knocked Varric on his ass. Hawke moved to his side and helped him to his feet. When he was up, he pushed her out of the way and released a bolt from Bianca that took Tarohne in the eye as Hawke's prison fell. They both turned and helped with the desire demon. Hawke grabbed hold of it with her spirit arm and Varric shot it through the neck. "That was a beauty of a shot!" he said as the demon fell when Hawke released her hold.

"We whittled it down for you," Anders said with a chuckle.

Hawke shook her head, glancing around to be sure there were no more demons or mages lying in wait. Satisfied, she moved to the suspended man again and released her dispel. The enchantment exploded outward with a force that knocked her back a few steps into Anders who steadied her. Then she moved away from him to kneel and help the boy to his feet. There was no mistaking the young man for anyone other than the girl's brother. They had the same blonde hair and the same striking blue eyes. He looked around in confusion. "Is it... is it over?"

"Keran?" Hawke asked for confirmation as Anders placed himself beside her again. She could get used to his humming presence beside her. Merrill's magic always felt wrong, but his resonated with hers and it felt so very right.

"Yes, that's my name." He rubbed his neck as if it were stiff. "Oh, thank the Maker. I thought He had abandoned me."

"But is it only Keran?" Varric asked prudently. "It could be Keran plus one. A very nasy plus one, at that."

"I never..." Carver's voice came out shakily. "I never understood why people could be so terrified of mages. Our family had two outside of father. You. Bethany." When she turned to face him, his expression was torn. "But this... Andraste was right to warn against magic."

"Of course, maniacs with swords and the Maker on their side never hurt anyone," she snapped.

"Maybe they have a reason," he growled. Was he serious? "It's just that I never really thought about their side. Now I see." What had Kirkwall done to her brother?

"Wh... What happens now?" Keran asked nervously, wringing his hands.

Hawke looked to Anders and found herself reaching out to touch his forearm. "Any chance you can tell if Keran has an extra passenger?"

He offered her a smile and stepped closer to Keran. "Well, there's one sure way." A quick burst of mana flared and he sent a spirit bolt into Keran. It was nothing that would seriously hurt him, but it knocked him back a few steps.

"Ah! What was that about?" Keran complained, rubbing his chest.

Anders turned to her and explained. "If there was a demon in there, it would have defended itself. Looks like he's clear."

"Go ahead and leave, Keran. You've been through enough," Hawke said gently pointing toward the exit.

"Don't tell the templars. I don't know what they'd do to me," he begged. "Please. I need to go back, tell them I'm all right, tell my sister. I... I must go." he turned and shuffled away, pausing to pick up a mostly undamaged cloak from one of the dead mages.

"When you talk to Ser Cullen, maybe downplay the blood magic angle. We don't need the templars cracking down even harder," Anders said. The hair on her neck stood at attention as he whispered the words almost directly in her ear, his hand gripping her upper arm. She shuddered and his smirk said he felt it. The bastard knew exacty what he was doing.

 

In the Gallows courtyard, Keran had cleaned up and was dressed in his templar plate when Hawke arrived. He hugged his sister and she aproached Cullen who was watching the exchange with care. "I've got some good news and some bad news," she said to Cullen who turned to look at her, his expression falling to dread.

"What? What is it?" he asked desperately.

"Good news, Keran is safe. Bad news, half of your recruits may have been possessed by demons," she informed him bluntly. He needed to know.

"Sweet blood of Andraste!" Cullen gasped as Keran and his sister both turned to look at her.

"D-demons? Did you say something about the recruits and demons?" his sister gasped, taking a step away from her brother.

"I didn't want to tell you, Macha. They... they were horrible. Those mages see the rest of us as ants to be crushed," Keran said in fear. "They won't stop until they've destroyed the Chantry and the templars forever."

"Not all mages are like that," Hawke said pointedly, glancing at Cullen.

"Sister, not now," Carver begged.

"True, not every mage gives in to temptation," Cullen agreed. "But none are ever free of it. At any time, any mage could become a monster, from the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters. Mages cannot be treated like people. They are not like you and me."

Hawke took a moment to look over the Knight-Captain and wonder what had happened to him that made him so fearful of mages. He just didn't seem the type. She was usually not wrong about people. Macha stepped back beside her brother. "Surely that's a little harsh."

"They are weapons," Cullen sighed sadly. "They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique."

Hawke nodded, knowing that was definitely true. "I admit, that does reduce their bargaining position, but there must be some middle ground," she suggested.

Cullen looked her over, his eyes lingering on her hands. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps mages need better education as to why the Chantry functions as it does. Perhaps they would not go against the will of Andraste herself. I will look into it," he said. It wasn't exactly what she had been saying, but it was a breakthrough to have gone from 'you're not a person' to 'perhaps you're right', in just a few sentences. He was definitely harboring some trauma. "For now, Keran, unless it is proven you are free of demons, I must strip you of your comission immediately."

"No! You can't really think that. Keran's fine. He's safe," Macha begged, hugging her brother's arm.

"Please, ser. I tried to resist. I never took anything they offered. I... I need this position or my sister can't eat. I've been training for five years!" Keran pleaded.

Cullen looked to Hawke for direction. "We conducted tests on Keran. He's not possessed. He can stay in the Order."

"I hesitate to ask what methods you used that you are so certain," Cullen said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Still, you have done much for us by stopping these blood mages. I will heed your request. If he has shown no sign of demonic possession in ten years' time, Keran will become eligible for full knighthood."

"Thank you, serah," Macha said gratefully, reaching out to take Hawke's hand in her own. "Again. But without a full knighthood, Keran's pay is so small... I do not know if I can reward you as you deserve..."

"I will handle that, miss," Cullen said with a small chuckle, offering Hawke a coin purse. "You have done the Order a great service. We will not forget it."

 

Hawke left the Gallows feeling like she had dodged a bolt from Bianca. That Knight-Captain was certainly an enigma. Carver and Varric walked ahead, turning towards Lowtown, yet Hawke found herself skipping along beside Anders as his magic hummed all around her. He turned a grin on her when he realized she was still with him and he said, "I had a friend like you once. Got in all kinds of trouble, dragged me along. Didn't think I'd be doing that again." He smiled as happy memories flitted across his eyes. When she didn't respond, his smile faded and he said, "I got a bit weighty the last time we talked. Sorry for putting that on you."

She scoffed and snorted. "You'd be surprised how people just tell me their darkest secrets. I must look trustworthy." She found that her staff was in her hands again, twirling casually in her fingers. She had always missed it so much when she put it away, and now as she walked through the streets with Anders at her side, she didn't feel like hiding anymore. Her secret was out anyway. Why bother?

"You look... something." He turned his gaze on her, studying her as he searched for the proper word. "True. Proud. Like even if you don't agree with me, you'll be honest. I just... I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend... it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"Well, he can't complain about his looks, anyway," she said teasingly.

Her flirtatious grin was not returned and he cringed. She returned her staff to it's holster on her back as he stopped in his tracks. "No. Don't go there. That's not going to end well. I don't want to hurt you."

She was confused. He had flirted with her all day, had responded well to all of her previous advancements, and now he was clamming up? "Hurt me. I might like it," she said with a smirk, true to form as she reached out to touch his arm.

He backed out of her reach. "No." He started walking again, his pace more urgent than the casual stroll they had been sharing before. "You saw what I did in the Chantry. That's who I am. A year ago, maybe we could have had something, but I'm not that man anymore. I'll break your heart. And that might kill me as surely as the templars."

She stopped in her tracks and he continued on, leaving her standing, dumbfounded in the middle of Darktown.

 

Wintersday was approaching. Varric had invited them all to the Hanged man for a small gift exchange party. Hawke had gotten a little something for everyone, dipping into the expedition fund only slightly. She and Anders had been doing an infuriating dance of 'yes, no, maybe, no', for the last two months. In the meantime, she had made it a point to both continue to visit all of her friends as well as continue to do fetch jobs. She and Isabela continued to flirt, and Hawke managed to draw more than a few smiles out of the broody elf squatting in Hightown as well as begin teaching him to read. If Anders was going to continue to endlessly reject her after stringing her along, she had other prospects.

The day before Wintersday, Hawke was coming back from the coast and yet another fetch quest when she heard shouting on the road ahead. She drew her staff as Varric and Alfie hurried ahead to see what the fuss was about. Anders' magic hummed around her and she shuddered as he jogged past her. Up ahead, a group of highwaymen were protecting a dwarf who was cowering behind a bush as several giant spiders scurried around, attacking. A small cave nearby must have been where they'd come from. Hawke unleashed her magic, careful not to hit any of the frightened men until she knew what the story was.

She called on her spirit arms and punched at the rocks above the cave entrance. They crumbled down, blocking the entry for more spiders. The dwarf came out of hiding as she crushed the last spider with a fist of the Maker. "Out of your element, dwarf?" she asked snidely, storing her staff on her back. Since Cullen had discovered her secret and she had begun to take Anders with her everywhere she went, she had not felt the need to use her concealment spell. She proudly displayed her magic for Kirkwall to see. The dwarf had his long hair pulled back in a thin braid and his beard was styled carefully as well. He was obviously not used to being out in nature if his well made clothes were any indication.

"No thanks to this lot," he tossed his thumb over his shoulder at the highwaymen. "Can't get a decent blade at a bargain anymore." He looked her up and down. "You though, you're what a man needs... a skilled enthusiast."

 _What did he call me_? "You can start making sense any time now," she said crossing her arms.

"My manners! Javaris Tintop, merchant and investor. I need forward thinkers to help court the Qunari," he said with a short bow.

" 'Court the Qunari?' Maker, think of the children!" Varric stole the words right out of Hawke's mouth as she swallowed a bark of laughter.

"Those horn heads in Kirkwall have a powder... That explodes. And it's just dust. No Lyrium, no demons. Anyone can use it," Javaris explained.

"I have heard of this," Anders said excitedly. "It's why their ships are so feared."

"I doubt they were eager to sell," Hawke said with a frown, realizing this was likely why Javaris was looking to 'court' them.

"That Arishok said I wasn't worthy, that only their outcasts, the Tal Vashoth are that mercenary. I said, 'Great, I'll got talk to them.' Didn't go over well. _But,_ it made me think... maybe he'll bargain if I get rid of something that bothers him more than, well, me." Javaris shrugged.

"The Tal Vashoth," Hawke mused.

"The Tal Vashoth," Javaris confirmed with a grin. "Are you up for some paid hunting?"

Hawke glanced between Anders and Varric who both shrugged. "I suppose there could be a reward for these Tal Vashoth."

"As long as you do it, I'm happy," Javaris shrugged again."Now, best I could figure, they're up the Wounded Coast, a whole camp. Take their heads off and meet me in the compound in Kirkwall. Get this right and we'll be richly rewarded. Richly."

He turned and headed back toward Kirkwall. Hawke spun on her heels and shuffled back in the direction they had been coming from. Anders sidled up beside her, in one of his more flirtatious moods that day. "You know, Qunari are not easy targets, sweetheart."

"I'm sure we can handle them. And if not, well that's why you're here," she backhanded his chest playfully.

"I think I've healed more wounds on you in the last few months than I have in my clinic," he chuckled, rubbing his chest with a pout.

"What is it you called me? 'A full time project'?" she teased.

"You know, I _am_ right here," Varric said with a smirk as he interrupted their banter.

"We have to be subjected to you fondling Bianca all of the time," Hawke teased. "Why should you two get all of the fun?"

Varric shrugged. "I suppose that's fair."

 

At the far end of the coast, a voice rang out from the hills to their right as they followed the road to the west. "Turn back!" It warned.

"Another 'friend' we haven't met?" Anders asked as his magic snaked over her skin, a barrier forming around them.

Hawke turned up the trail leading North and they were met by an abnormally tall, thickly muscled, and bare chested Qunari. His skin was the typical gray of the race and he had short horns that swept back from his face. "No further, human!" he called from a short distance away, seemingly not wishing to approach them. "Tal Vashoth control these passages."

"Ambushes are usually quieter, Qunari," she called back, stopping to appraise his sheer size. Even with the ones that were squatting at the Docks in Kirkwall, she had never really seen a Qunari up close, except for the one that had been caged up in Lothering before they left, and he was not quite like this one.

He held up his hand and said, "I did not intend to ambush. I expected to warn a caravan, but you are not helpless. The path ahead is... littered with my kind. If you are as skilled as you look, it would please me if you killed them."

Hawke cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "And I should trust you?"

"I have no history of betraying your people. Only my own," he stated. "I did not like my role, so I left the Qun. I do not wish to be a murdering thief, so I left these Tal Vashoth to warn their victims. _You_ are no victim, so now I will leave."

"What's the trick, Tal Vashoth?" Hawke wondered, not liking this in the least.

"The path ahead is thick with my kind. They revel in chaos and will give you the battle you appear to want. If telling you that is a trick, it is a poor one," he sneered. "I am new to decisions outside my role, human. I have decided to warn you. Do what you will." With a dismissive wave of his hand, he left them.

"Charming as always," Anders commented, following behind her as she continued up into the hills.

They were not long in finding the Tal Vashoth that they had been warned about. They were able to sneak up on them for the most part as they had set small compliments of two to three spaced out along the winding path. The element of surprise was broken when they reached the opening to a cave system. A large group stood guard outside. Hawke knelt behind an oversized rock, Anders behind her, breathing on her neck and warming her against the freezing air in the hills. Maker, he was so close. Her stiff fingers twisted painfully as she fought the winter cold to cast her tempest and announce their presence. She stepped around the rock and swiped her left arm in an arc, encompassing the area around the massive creatures to mark where the tempest would be contained. The bolts of lightning formed in the sky and began to strike within her area, creating confusion in the Tal Vashoth. They attempted to dodge the constantly striking lightning while trying to figure out where it was coming from. Concentrating on her spell, she didn't see the Qunari that came at her from a small alcove to the left. He sprung from between two bushes and with a shout, he flung a long spear at her. She abandoned the spell, but was not fast enough to get out of the way of the projectile. It rammed into her, piercing easily through her gut and jutted out her back. She stumbled back with the force and almost immediately, the roaring pain was replaced with a numbness that spread from her core. She looked down at the two inch thick spear sticking out of her and whimpered. A gigantic fireball blazed past her, slamming into the Qunari and she heard a cone of cold jut up behind her. Several bolts whizzed from Bianca and she was falling, her legs giving way to the tingling.

She never hit the ground, and his magic was all around her. "I've got you," he assured her, as he dropped to his knees to set her gently on her side. A sharp crack told her he had snapped the head from the spear but she could feel nothing. "I'm so sorry," he whispered as he reached to take hold of the shaft. She took a moment to wonder why he was apologizing before he yanked the spear back out of her middle. The pain slammed back into her as she felt every inch of the thing drag through her insides. She cried out and if not for his hands gently pressing over her new hole, she may have blacked out. He poured his magic into her and it melded with hers, reaching for her ruined stomach. She tasted blood and felt her eyes fluttering. "Stay with me, Hawke," he begged.

She forced herself to focus on anything but the pain. She gritted her teeth as his magic began to work as quickly as he could manage. She reached out and took hold of his arm, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth as her fingers clutched her anchor to reality. The spirit he summoned to assist his healing was a minor thing, caressing over her skin and soothing the ache. She heard Varric curse from not far away as Anders' twisting strings of magic pierced and tugged at her inside and out while he knitted her back together. It was almost unbearable. She whimpered again as his mana drained into her. Every last drop of magic leeched from him as he mended her flesh. When he had nothing left, he slowly lifted his hands and she inhaled a ragged breath, rolling onto her side to spit the pool of blood from her mouth. He slumped, his weary body barely having enough left to sit upright, but still he pulled her back into him, clutching her to his chest. She huddled in his embrace, sending what little mana she had left to the surface to warm his now cold skin. "Thank you," she managed to whisper.

"Maker, if I hadn't been here..." he choked.

She managed a short chuckle as she pulled away from him to fumble for her potions, her hands shaking terribly. "I told you this is why I brought you." Alfie chose then to approach her, whimpering. She briefly leaned her forehead against his shoulder and he licked her face.

Anders' own short, pained bark of laughter filled the quiet air that was still charged with the remains of her tempest. "And here I thought it was because I was charming."

"That, too," she said softly, handing him a vial of lyrium, her hand closing briefly over his.

She was about to swallow her own vial when Varric cleared his throat. He approached them with a small healing draught, handing it to her, his eyes asking if she was okay. She nodded and took the red potion from him, still feeling the effects of the blow and cringing as she twisted her body. Anders swallowed his potion and the hum of his magic returned, but it was muted, the healing spell having sapped all of his reserves. "Have you got another of those?" he asked.

She frowned and cocked her head. "Is that safe?"

He chuckled wearily. "I have Justice to keep me safe, sweetheart. I don't need to worry about too much Lyrium."

She pressed her lips together and pulled a third bottle from her pouch and handed it to him. "We'll rest for a bit out here, gather our strength, and then head in and finish these bastards off." She glanced over her shoulder at the remains of the Tal Vashoth spitted on Anders' wall of ice, their blood seeping slowly down the spikes and congealing quickly between the spell and the frigid winter air.

Varric let out a nervous chuckle. "You two look like death warmed over. Are you going to make it past _more_ Qunari?"

"We'll be good as new in a few minutes," she assured Varric, reluctantly untangling her legs from Anders'. Somewhere along the line, she had wound up in his lap.

 

They shuffled back to Kirkwall after dealing with the rest of the Tal Vashoth, all of them subdued. When they came to the split in the streets that would either lead them to the docks or to Darktown, Anders paused. "I... need to go check on the clinic."

"Will I see you at the Hanged Man, tomorrow?" she asked hopefully before he could leave.

He turned a small, forced smile on her and said, "I wouldn't miss it." Then he started down the stairs toward Darktown.

Hawke watched him go for a moment before Varric interrupted her thoughts. "You know, I thought he was going to go all justice-y when you went down. There was a flicker in his eyes."

She pressed her lips together but didn't respond. She was certain that Justice was not a fan of hers for whatever reason. Varric reached up and squeezed her arm and she turned away from the now empty street where Anders had disappeared. He went with her to the Qunari compound at the Docks, running into a closed gate guarded by one of the tall Par Vollen natives. This one looked different from the Tal Vashoth. His bare skin was covered with red paint that marked him as a follower of the Qun and not Tal Vashoth. He was much more well armored as well, sporting a strangely shaped helm that was fitted for his horns, and a set of vanguards for his arms. Hawke stepped up to him and said, "Let me pass I have business with the dwarf Javaris and your Arishok."

The Qunari looked her up and down with curiosity as she held her cloak closed around her bloodied clothes. "The short-mouth. Yes. Enter, if you must, basra."

He opened the gates for her and she slipped in, glancing around. A great amount of Qunari were holed up in the small space. Up a short flight of stairs, she spotted Javaris standing impatiently at the bottom of a second set of stairs, guarded by a group of five Qunari who formed an arch around an empty throne. The throne was simple, clearly Qunari in make, but thrown together with whatever materials they could find. Up above on makeshift battlements, stood even more Qunari. Hawke made her way past the horde and up to Javaris who said. "Ah! My right hand arrives! Summon your Arishok... the bargain is done." One of the Qunari closest to the throne disappeared into the building behind it, and while they waited he grumbled. "About time you showed. I've been here for hours."

Hawke was forced to settle for a glare at him, not willing to open her cloak to cross her arms. If he only knew what she'd been through to get what he wanted. Her stomach was still aching, and she desperately needed a bath. The Arishok made an appearance, moving to stand in front of his throne and assess her before sitting. He had massive metal pauldrons on his shoulders, painted red and emblazoned with the Qunari heraldry. Leather straps held the pauldrons in place, crisscrossing over his massive chest. Over the simple hide pants, that she likely could have slipped her entire body into one leg of, he had protective skirting made of flaps of thick and intricately designed leather. His pointed ears were cuffed from top to bottom with a thin gold plate that was fitted to him specifically. Three rectangular rings dangled from each plate. His long horns swept back from his head, reminding Hawke of the horns of hair on Flemeth's head. They were also decorated with bands of gold along their length like bracelets. He was quite the intimidating sight.

Javaris broke Hawke's concentration on the hulking Qunari by clearing his throat and taking a bow. "Illustrious Arishok. I am here to report that your hated Tal Vashoth were felled one and all..." he glanced briefly at Hawke and whispered, "Right?... Yes, yes, yes... they were. So, I'm ready to open negotiations. For the explosive powder. As we agreed."

The Arishok leaned forward and with a sneer on his face said simply, "No."

"He's not getting it. Say something," Javaris mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

Hawke sighed and took a single step ahead of Javaris to make herself known. "The Tal Vashoth camped at the Wounded Coast are dead. You won't honor your bargain?"

The Arishok appraised her before tipping his head slightly. "There is no bargain to honor. His offer for the Gaatlok was refused, so he invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none."

"I broke my beard getting your outcasts killed!" Javaris complained. _He almost broke me_! Hawke'e brain shouted.

"You hired someone more competent and now stand in their shadow pretending it is yours," The Arishok growled. Then he glanced at Hawke before he returned his snarl to Javaris. "You demean her accomplishment. Get out of my sight before I bother lifting my sword."

Hawke clenched her fists and said, "I did his dirty work. That debt stands." She was not going to have put herself through that ordeal just to get nothing.

"Does it, dwarf?" The Arishok asked with a cock of his head.

"You said yourself, there was no bargain," Javaris grumbled, shaking his head. "I'm not getting a sodding thing out of this!"

The Arishok sat back and hung his head in disappointment. This made the rest of the Qunari around him fidget and reach for their weapons. Then the Arishok stood. "The human did what you could not... something I did not expect of any outsider... And you have involved me. If you made a bargain for the Tal Vashoth, that debt for their lives _will_ be honored."

"Sod it all!" Javaris growled, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Take your coin. Take whatever..." he yanked a coin purse from his belt and threw it at Hawke before turning for the exit and mumbling curses. "Horn head oxmen and mongrel dog lords. Suck your own powder and blow your head off, Sod it!"

"You will leave as well, human. There's no more coin for you here." The Arishok turned and sat back in his throne to watch Hawke leave. She knelt and picked up the coin purse and made a swift exit. It was likely the hardest earned coin she'd made.

Varric walked back up to Lowtown with her, going so far as to follow her up her steps to Gamlen's front door. "Maker's breath, Hawke. Are you going to be all right?"

She opened her cloak to let him have a look at her ruined hauberk and the fresh scar peeking from beneath it. "Anders did a fanastic job in closing me up. I'd just better hope Mother isn't home."

"If you say so," he said with a pat to her arm. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He left the stoop and headed for the Hanged Man as Hawke opened the door a crack to peer in and see who was home. Alfie bounded in ahead of her and drew Carver's attention from the book he was reading by the fire. "Why are you sneaking around?" he wondered suspiciously, closing his book with a smack.

"Is Mother home?" she asked softly, glancing around the common room and seeing no one.

"No. She and Gamlen went to the market for some groceries," he explained. Hawke sighed in relief and stepped inside, hurrying for the bedroom and a change of clothes. "Maker, what happened to you?" he asked, following her after getting a look at the bloodied mess of her clothes.

"Qunari happened." She tossed the fresh coin purse at him and said, "Would you count that. I didn't get a chance."

Carver balked as he dumped the coins into his palm. "There are three whole sovereigns in here!"

"Oh, so it was worth it getting spitted like a kabob," she mused, stripping to her breastband.

Carver approached her and probed at the shining scar on her abdomen. "You had that mage with you, didn't you?"

"If Anders hadn't been there, _I_ wouldn't be _here,_ " she turned and showed him the other side of the scar on her back.

"You should get cleaned up before Mother gets home and sees you like this," he advised. "Looks like some of this coin will be going towards new armor."

 

Hawke had found a red sweater at a vendor in the Alienage a few weeks ago and had spent the better part of her free time decorating it with shiny baubels and bells and making it as obnoxious as she could. She had even enchanted tiny multi-colored crystals with mage light. She also had asked her mother for help in sewing some fabricated Halla horns to a head band and was now wearing it on her head, her bangs held away from her face. She burst through the door of the Hanged Man with a sack over her shoulder, making certain she made it through the threshold before Carver. As she had planned, they were the last to arrive, making her spectacle the center of attention as her friends looked up from their nog. "Happy Wintersday!"

"What in the Maker's name are you wearing?" Varric said with a chuckle as she sauntered in, her damp boots leaving a trail across the common room.

"You don't like it?" she said with a mock pout. "I made it special."

"And here I thought Hawke was good at everything," Isabela hummed in amusement.

"It's very festive," Merrill said with a positive smile. "I like the antlers."

She set her bag down and dropped into her usual chair, crossing her legs. "I've been here almost a whole minute and not one of you has offered me a drink." Anders, who had been staring at her since she walked in was already halfway to her with a teacup full of nog. He held it over her head with a smirk and she took it. "My hero." He chuckled and moved off to sit a few chairs away as she sipped the sweet drink and it warmed her chest, chasing off the chill from the evening air in the streets. "So, have I missed anything?"

"We were waiting on you to start handing out the gifts," Aveline said, looking more relaxed than Hawke had ever seen her. She was wearing a simple light green tunic that matched her eyes, and a pair of furlined hide pants with short boots. Hawke glanced around at the others and saw that they were all dressed fairly casually. It was a rare thing to see everyone together and not swinging their weapon of choice in full armor.

"Well, here I am," she said with a smirk. "Who's first?"

"Oh, I want to go first!" Merrill said excitedly. "This is my first Wintersday without my clan, and I wasn't sure what to get everyone, but I did my best." she began to ramble.

Varric chuckled. "It's all right, Daisy, I'm sure we'll all love our gifts."

The exchanges started off wonderfully. Merrill had made everyone little pins that they could attach to their clothes with Hawke's family crest emblazoned on them and each with a personalized enchantment for a power boost. "The holiday should be about family and now we're all a part of Hawke's family," she said with a flush in her cheeks.

"Aww, Daisy. You're going to make me cry," Varric said, wiping an invisible tear from his cheek.

"At least now the guard will know who to go to when you all misbehave," Hawke chuckled. "Thank you Merrill. They're wonderful."

The rest of the exchanges went a bit more privately as they mingled around the room, Hawke started with Carver, giving him a matching pair of gloves and boots, having noticed that his had worn down nearly to the bone, and a small dragon figurine for his collection. For Merrill, she had found a ring crafted by the Dalish and another book to add to the library she had started. She got Varric crossbow oil and a fake beard which he laughed at for a whole fifteen minutes after putting it on. She bought Aveline a set of Orlesian head bands and a series of romance novels that were guaranteed to make the Madame of the Blooming Rose blush.

For the others, she had made a much more thoughtful effort. For Fenris, she had broken into the Amell cellars again and stolen him a whole case of wine. She'd already snuck the rest into his mansion, but the single bottle she gave him made him smile for a whole thirty seconds. It was a new record.

For Isabela, she had gotten a rather obscene deck of cards, and found a ship in a bottle. When she presented it, Isabela crooned. "Ooh what's this? Oh, isn't that just the cutest thing?"

"You can't see it, but below deck there's a perfect replica of you with a dozen sailors in attendance," Hawke purred in response.

Isabela chuckled. "You tease. I'm sure there isn't. It is a worthy goal to work towards, however. Thank you, poppet. This was a thoughtful gesture."

Finally for Anders, she had wanted to find him something that didn't have to deal with justice, mages or anything else unpleasant. She walked up to him and he watched her approach, his eyes drawn to the flashing lights on her sweater. He smirked and said, "That sweater is awful, but somehow you manage to make it look good."

"I do what I can," she shrugged. "I got you something extra special... Now it may not be Knight-Commander Meredith's head, but it might make you smile just a little bit." She reached in the sack as he chuckled at her joke and pulled out the small stuffed cat.

His smile faded as she presented it to him and his jaw hit the floor. "It looks just like Pounce," he said softly, taking it and looking back at her. "Hawke, I... thank you. It's perfect." She smiled at his gratitude, happy that she could get him something he could enjoy. It might not be the real thing, but she swore he was about to burst into tears. She patted his arm and began to turn away, balling up her sack to toss it on a nearby table. He stopped her with a hand around her upper arm. She turned to regard him and his eyes flicked to her sweater again. He chuckled. "Maker, that sweater. I can't..." he dragged his eyes back up to her face. "I got you something, too."

He led her up to Varric's room and she was suddenly painfully aware of how alone they were. She swallowed her heart and attempted to play it casual as he reached around the wall and pulled out a long thin box wrapped in red ribbon that twirled neatly around it from top to bottom. He had clearly taken time to wrap it carefully. It was almost as tall as she was. He handed it to her and even through the wrapping and the box, she could feel the magic thrumming around it. She picked carefully at the edge of the ribbon, not wanting to damage his work. When it came free, the ribbon unwraveled and fell at her feet, leaving the box bare. She moved to the table to set it down and lifted the top off. Nestled among velvet, a brand new staff sat, shining like a beacon. She reached in and took it in her hands, the magic singing around her. "Maker," she whispered, taking a step back to twirl it between her fingers. It was light and balanced, the wood beneath her fingers a soft, pleasant change from the staff she had been carrying for years. There were grips, perfectly spaced for a two handed wield. The wood was shaped around the amber crystal embedded in the head, leaving thin rivulets to view it through. On the bottom, forged to the base was a mechanism she had never seen on a staff before. She ran her hands down the shaft, her fingers dancing with the pulse of magic that came from it. When she reached the mechanism, she pulled the small trigger and a foot long, razor sharp blade shot out from the core of the staff. "Oh, it's happy to see me," she said with a breathless chuckle.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his tone nervous.

She dragged her eyes from the gorgeous piece of ingenuity and met his soft, honey eyes. "Anders... it's... I... I have no words."

He sighed out a relieved laugh. "The great Marian Hawke struck dumb. I never thought I'd see the day."

Snapping the blade back into place with another pull of the trigger, she crossed the few steps between them and threw her arms around him. "Thank you."

He hugged her tightly, his body shuddering beside hers, but the hug was brief as he pulled away. "I'm glad you like it. I called in a favor to an old friend to have it crafted. It's made by the finest armorer in Denerim from the heartwood of an ancient Sylvan."

Hawke stammered out another chuckle. "And all I got you was a stuffed cat."

"And I love it. I didn't do this expecting some grand gesture in return. I just thought you deserved better than that rickety old thing you carry," he assured her.

She glanced back at the staff in her hand, overwhelmed. Then she heard her name being called amongst the voices of her friends, raised in drunken caroling. She offered him one last thankful smile before sauntering out of the room and back down to the common room, her heart still pounding. "There she is!" Isabela said, swaying over to Hawke and flicking her eyes up above her where she had tucked a sprig of mistletoe in her bandana.

Hawke chuckled. "Isn't that supposed to be in a doorway?"

"It's _much_ more fun here," she purred, handing Hawke another cup of nog and then grabbing hold of her sweater to pull her against her. With their bodies pressed together, Isabela leaned in, so close to Hawke's lips that Hawke swore she could taste the nog on her. Then with a chuckle, she turned Hawke's head and kissed her cheek before playfully pushing her away.

"And you call me the tease. For shame, Izzy," Hawke said, downing the nog she was given.

"Well, I was tempted to wrap myself in ribbons and say that _I_ was your present, but I thought it might ruin the party, so I got you this," she turned and hopped up to rest her stomach on the bar and lean over, giving the whole room a peek as she reached for a garment box. When she thumped back down on her feet, she didn't even allow Hawke the pleasure of unwrapping her own gift. She flipped the lid of the box onto the floor and unfolded the prize. "I expect you to wear it all night to cover up that monstrosity of a sweater." She moved in to drape it over Hawke's shoulders.

It was a finely crafted, knee length coat made of hide dyed blood red. The inside was lined with short, soft fur and when buckled, it perfectly contoured to Hawke's curves. "Izzy, it's beautiful." Hawke said in awe. That was twice that she had been outdone.

Isabela scoffed. "It was nothing."

She gently leaned her new staff against the bar to take Merrill's pin from her sweater and move it to the lapel of the coat. Then she sat down in the nearest chair to watch the party for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to be getting along. It truly was a Wintersday miracle. Varric brought her another drink and a small gift box. "It's not a coat or a fancy staff, but I think you'll like it." She tore off the wrapping and opened the box to a leather bound book with her family's crest burned into the cover. The pages were blank and she hummed in appreciation. "I figured with all of the crazy shit you get into, you might want to start writing it down. You might make a fortune selling your memoirs someday."

She chuckled. "I'm not the writer you are, Varric, but I'll do my best. Thank you." She reached over and plucked the fake beard, snapping it against his chin. "And thanks for arranging tonight."

He waved a hand. "I think it'll do us all some good to take a night off. Even the elf is smiling." Hawke glanced over and noticed Isabela waving her mistletoe in Fenris' face while he amusedly brushed her off. Varric patted Hawke's knee before getting up and moving back into the crowd. Everyone else approached her throughout the evening, giving her the gifts they'd gotten her. Aveline had gotten her a nice new set of light armor, alleviating Hawke's need to replace her ruined set. It was made mostly of hide and leather with small bits of thin chain placed strategically in Hawke's vulnerable spots. Of course Aveline would have mapped all of her vulnerable spots. Fenris had gotten her a pair of gloves enchanted with frost magic, stating that they would help her to channel ice easier. For someone who hated mages so much, he sure knew a lot about magic. Finally, Carver handed over an amulet with a lifestone in it. She wondered where he had gotten his hands on such a powerful piece of jewelry. A lifestone would bring the wearer back from the brink of death. They were rare and highly sought after.

Hawke was full and pleasantly drunk, by the time the evening wound to a close. She sat slouched in her chair, draped in ribbons after losing a round of Wicked Grace. She almost didn't want to leave, but Norah was kicking them out with a chuckle, saying that Varric's tab had reached it's limit for the evening. "Carver!" she called, knowing that he was more sober than her.

"Yes, Sister?" he asked, bending to put his _two_ faces in front of her.

"Make sure..." she paused, wrinkling her nose and trying to remember what she had meant to say. "Oh, right... make sure Merrill doesn't get lost."

"Already on it, Marian," he assured her.

She watched Aveline and Fenris leave together to head back to Hightown. Isabela and Varric disappeared to their respective rooms and that left her. She moved to get up and the room swayed. She flopped back down with a chuckle. Before she could attempt the feat again, strong arms slipped under hers and lifted her to her feet. She tried to turn and see who was man handling her and tripped over her own feet. She fell into his arms and immediately knew who it was even through the fog of the drink. The soothing hum of his magic made her press her head to his chest. The solid press of him made the room stop spinning just for a moment. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you home."

He carefully extricated her from the ribbons all around her and she stopped him as they headed for the door. "Staff," she mumbled. "Staff _and_ stuff." she giggled.

He laughed softly. "Don't worry. I've got your sack of goodies."

She snorted. "Sack of stuff."

"Yes. Your sack of stuff," he said, stooping to pull her arm over his shoulders.

They made it outside into the freezing air and the wind was like a slap to the face. She shuddered and leaned against him, suddenly sober enough to realize that Anders was dragging her home. She gathered her feet underneath her and attempted to help him even a little bit. The steps up to the front door were a challenge and they were both laughing by the time they had made it half way and she had tripped over him at least four times. She suddenly frowned. "How come you're so... sober?" she slurred. She distinctly remembered him drinking quite a bit.

He chuckled. "Justice doesn't let me get drunk anymore. I kind of miss it."

"Oh," she said, unable to process his answer in her state. He lifted her up again and they managed to get all of the way to the door.

He knocked quietly as her head lolled onto his shoulder. When the door clicked open, a soft voice greeted him. Mother, she realized and then felt his voice rumble through her as he spoke. The warmth from the fire inside cured her temporary bought with sobriety as Leandra let him in and he helped her into the bedroom. She patted his chest with a sloppy hand, painstakingly lifting her head to glance at his face. He set an endearing smile on her and asked, "Yes?"

She grinned and pointed up to the top bunk. "I sleep up there," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Not tonight, Sweet heart," he said as he knelt and let her slump into Carver's bunk. He tucked a blanket over her and took her antlers off her head, brushing her hair from her face and she huddled into the mattress. "Good night, Hawke. Happy Wintersday." And then her lids gave up the ghost and fell shut. She was asleep in moments.

 


	6. Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After endless months of jobs, Hawke finally has the revenue to become partners with Bartrand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words of Anders' Manifesto were based on art by coolbyproxy on Deviantart.  
> https://www.deviantart.com/coolbyproxy/art/Anders-Manifesto-493204261

Hawke had gotten a message from a man named Hubert concerning a mine that was outside the city, a few miles before you reached Sundermount. Work was work, and she was close to having what she needed to revisit Bartrand.

She shuffled up from Lowtown to the Hightown Market where he had asked her to meet him. Hubert turned out to be a highstrung Orlesian with dark skin and even darker hair whose eyes were so oddly shaped that she had to look twice to be certain they weren't melting off his face. "I hear you're having problems with the Bone Pit. I can help," she said approaching him.

"Ah, finally someone comes to help me," he said turning to regard her. She was dressed in all of her new gear and feeling rather flashy, but it seemed to impress him enough to deign to speak with her. "You look a bit unseasoned, but I hope you'll do." She crossed her arms, ready to listen in spite of the insult. "I had to suspend operations. My workers are lost in the mines or have run off... Serves me right for hiring Ferelden refugees..." he grunted, apparently not recognizing her accent, or not caring to. "I sent others before, but no word. Perhaps they are putting me off. I need someone competent to figure out what is going on."

"Your first mistake was naming your mine, 'The Bone Pit," Hawke said with a mild chuckle. If she was hired to work somewhere with a name like that, she might run off too.

"The locals named the mine," he said in exasperation. "Those fools say it's cursed. That is why I hire Fereldens. They may be dull witted, but they're not superstitious."

She wished her arms weren't already crossed so she could cross them again. "Mind what you say about my countrymen," she warned breathily.

He chuckled nervously, lifting his hands in placation. "I was not referring to you, of course. My workers are a particualarly desperate sort. They're lucky to work for me. Few in Kirkwall will hire refugees."

Hawke sighed and figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the mine and maybe rescue a few poor refugees from giant spiders or whatever else had chased them off. "I'll head there soon."

"The sooner the better," Hubert agreed. "Each day the mine is not running costs me more than those miners make in a year." _Poor sods._

Hawke left Hubert and sidled her way to Darktown. She hadn't seen Anders since Wintersday and she wanted to thank him again for her staff. She had thrown a few practice spells around a few days ago just to get a feel for the new equipment, and everything had worked together very nicely. When she quietly pushed the door open, he was off to the left, hovering over one of his patients. He glanced up as soon as she entered, offering her a sweet smile and tossing his head towards the back after his eyes flicked up and down her person. She headed in to where he kept his desk, often scribbling away on stacks of parchment when he wasn't busy. She picked up the top section of paper and scanned over what he was calling his manifesto.

_On the Subject of Mage Rights_

_Magic is a gift from the Maker._

_The Chantry laws are based on fear of an empire that crumbled a thousand years ago. If the Maker hates magic, why would he still gift it to us?_

~~_There must be a revolution_ ~~

_Change will not come in increments!_

That was as far as she got before he approached her, gently taking the parchment from her hands and setting it down. She took note of the stuffed cat she had gotten him displayed proudly on the edge of the desk, watching over where he sat. "Did you need me for something, or did you just come to fish through my things?" he asked with a grin.

"Both?" she said with a chuckle, leaning her butt on his desk and opening a pouch at her hip. "I picked up a job just outside the city at the Bone Pit. I thought you might like to come and see my new staff in action." He stepped towards the small nook where he hid his own staff, but she stopped him. "Wait, before we go. I brought you something." Out of the pouch, she pulled a sandwich. A simple meal for him. She knew he tended to neglect himself.

He took it from her with a grin. "If we don't get out of here while there is a lull, I'll get swamped again and I won't be able to go with you."

"Then you can eat while we walk," she insisted, shooing him with both hands as she pushed off the desk.

He sighed, strapping his staff on his back and with the sandwich in hand led her out the door. While he locked up and drew in the mana that kept his lanterns burning, he glanced at her with a half cocked smile. "Isabela was right. Red is your color."

She was wearing her new coat over her armor in place of her tattered cloak and it was quickly coming to her attention that it was about a hundred times warmer. She was barely even noticing the cold as she trudged through the snow filled streets of Kirkwall. She took the compliment at face value. With the way he would flirt one day and shut her out the next, she never knew how to take him. "Eat your sandwich," she said with a grin, nudging him with her shoulder as they turned to walk together out of Darktown.

She headed for the Hanged Man next, looking for Varric. Once he was trailing behind, she made her way up to Hightown to get Fenris out of his mansion. She wasn't keen on taking both Fenris and Anders anywhere together, because they tended to bicker, but she was more willing to listen to them going at it than Anders and Carver.

Half an hour later as they approached the Bone Pit, Varric was walking beside her chatting amiably as the boys predictably exchanged jabs as they lingered behind. "Is there something you want, Anders?" Fenris glared at him openly, his fingers twitching near his sword.

Anders had been glancing at Fenris and smirking for a few minutes now as Hawke continuously stole worried peeks at them. "You really don't have the temperament for a slave," Anders pointed out casually, clearly lining up for something, his tone leading.

Fenris fell right into the trap, "Is that a compliment or an insult?" he growled suspiciously.

Anders snickered. "I'm just wondering how your master didn't kill you."

"How have the templars not killed you?" Fenris growled at mention of Danarius.

"I'm charming," Anders said with a grin, a small piece of his personality peeking through around Justice. It was always nice to see when he would show small bits of who he might have been before. Charming, witty, confident and brilliant. It made Hawke loathe Justice and what he had done to Anders.

"You are an abomination," Fenris growled, upping the ante.

Anders' eyes narrowed. "Why don't you shout? I don't think everyone heard you..."

Fenris cocked his head and Hawke was practically walking backwards to be sure they didn't take each other's heads off. "Do you see yourself as harmless, then? An abomination who would never harm someone?"

"Like ripping someone's heart out of his chest?" Anders countered with a snarl.

"I did that at the behest of no demon," Fenris defended himself.

"So we agree that it doesn't take a demon for someone to be a vicious killer? Good," Anders' magic was slowly flaring and Hawke cleared her throat, turning to walk backwards in earnest.

"Do I need to separate you two? I don't have time out corners, but I do have spirit arms if it will help."

"We are almost at the mine, are we not?" Fenris asked with one final glare at Anders.

Hawke nodded and turned back to watch where she was going. They came up along a ridgeline where the path snaked up the side of a short mountain. Below to their right was a huge open quarry. Deep below, she could barely make out the aged piles of bones that gave the mine it's name. There was an odd smell in the air, like Brimstone, and Hawke wrinkled her nose. "Hubert's workers must be a desperate lot to want to work in a place like this," Varric mumbled as he insitinctively readied Bianca.

The camp outside the mine was deserted and picked clean by looters. Hawke sighed. "I guess we need to go in and see if we can find any of the workers."

Hawke had been expecting some form of beastie or a new breed of highwaymen. What they actually found in the mine made her gape. "Dragons?!" Varric wondered aloud as the small wingless dragonlings began to drop in from above them. Then a small dragon, in relation to Flemeth, flew down to start breathing fire all around.

"Well, that explains the Brimstone," Hawke mused, throwing up a barrier around them. Her fire spells were useless against the dragon's hide, but her staff was thrumming with power as she poured her mana through it to launch a few bolts of chain lightning. "Maker's breath, I could get used to this!" she chuckled, jamming the butt into the stone and dirt beneath her feet and the lightning spreading further to jump easily from one dragonling to the next. Fenris had herded the larger dragon further into the mine where he had some open room. Varric unleased a volley if bolts into the air so they rained down on the beasts that shuddered under Hawke's magic. A few of the creatures got around the onslaught as Anders attempted to hold them at bay with a wall of ice. They scurried for Hawke and the hum of her familiar magic, drawn in by her heat. When one reached out it's long neck to bite at her boot, she quickly slipped her staff further up in her hands and released the blade. It shot out, taking the dragonling in the eye. The creature wailed in pain and she yanked the staff back to slice it's entire head off to stop the gutwrenching noise.

"Is anyone on fire?" Anders asked with a chuckle as the large dragon fell under Fenris' blade.

"Why don't we ever get attacked by anything normal?" Hawke wondered, brushing some ash from her coat.

"This _is_ the Dragon Age, sweetheart," Anders pointed out, his thumb reaching up to rub soot from her cheek.

She sighed in regret. "I should have been born a dragon."

"I thought you wanted to be a dwarf?" Varric asked with a chuckle.

"Well, that was only to get from the bottom of Lowtown to the Keep without breaking a sweat. If I were a dragon, I could just fly up."

"If you say so," Varric agreed. "Let's go see if there are any workers left."

They did indeed run into a red headed man further into the mines. "Praise Andraste you came along!" he gasped when he saw Hawke and the others. "Them dragons would have sniffed me out for certain."

"Hold on," Hawke said as he shuddered. "What happened here?"

"I'll tell you what I can, but be a friend and keep your voice down," he said, glancing around nervously. "There's another dragon close by."

"Did anyone else manage to escape?" Hawke wondered, lowering her voice as he'd asked.

"Some of my fellows ran for the surface," he replied with a nod then hung his head. "I hope they made it."

"You'd better get going," Hawke said stepping out of the doorway. "Try not to get eaten."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he said passing by her. "You should leave, too, but don't go that way. There's this huge dragon!" he pointed over his shoulder to where he had come from before running the way she and the others had come.

Anders stepped up beside her. "Ah. I'd wondered if the dragons left their nest unguarded."

The tunnels in the mine had led them down, around and out to stand on a large plateau that overlooked the Bone Pit itself. "You take me to the nicest places, Hawke," Fenris said deadpan just before a fully mature dragon swooped in and nearly landed on top of Hawke.

Fenris grabbed her and tugged her out of the way of the dragon's swiping claws and she felt a barrier roar up around them from Anders. Varric scurried underneath it and out the back to get behind it and shoot bolts from where he couldn't be seen. When he was satisfied she was out of immediate danger, Fenris ran at the dragon with his greatsword, stopping just beside her leg and using a move she had seen Carver use hundreds of times. He spun in a circle, using his momentum to kick up the dirt around him as he sliced from inside the tornado. She took a moment to appreciate the strength in Fenris' thin and muscled body to be able to pull off that stunt. Carver had tried to show her once and she could barely lift the sword, let alone swing it properly. She shook off the thoughts and concentrated on using her spells to her advantage. Using her force magic, she curled her fingers around her staff, and then quickly executed the complex spell that her father had called gravitic ring. Laying the glyph directly under the dragon's belly, she redirected the flow of gravity around it's feet, With the spell active, the Dragon began moving at a snail's pace. Hawke grunted with the effort to maintain it and shouted. "Fenris! Get underneath it!"

Anders saw her struggling and ceased his offensive casting to rush to her side and lay his palm on her shoulder. His mana pressed against her, lending her strength to manipulate the world around them. She felt the touch of the Fade and swore in her minds' eye saw a glowing figure cock it's head in curiosity. The dragon tried to swipe it's front leg at Fenris as he did as she'd ordered, but with her spell in place it got about a quarter of the way through it's swipe before his sword was in it's belly. He ripped a long gash from front to back, dancing out of the way as the blood began to pour. As soon as he was free of danger, she dropped the spell, flagging a bit and leaning on her staff. "Where in Andraste's name did you learn that?" Anders asked in awe.

She chuckled and forced herself straight so she could walk slowly over to the dragon's body as it fell. It's mouth was agape and she pulled one of her hidden daggers free from her coat and fished one of it's teeth loose as a trophy which she offered to Fenris. He declined with a shake of his head and she pocketed it for herself. "I'm a life long apostate. I've had access to books the Circle never dreamed of and a lot of time on my hands. Just because I don't practice certain magics doesn't mean I don't know how to."

"Color me astounded," Anders said with a curious smile. "You continue to amaze me."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Come on, let's get back to Hubert and tell him we cleared his precious mine."

 

Without preamble, Hawke approached Hubert in the market, still covered in soot and ash from the Bone Pit. Dusk was looming. "I solved your problem," she stated, crossing her arms as the high strung man looked her over with his strangely shaped eyes widened.

"So, what happened? One of the miners told me you rescued him from dragons. I cuffed him for lying," Hubert said with a chuckle.

Hawke glared. "Well, he wasn't. Go there and see the corpses for yourself," she urged, mildly hoping they had missed a few dragonlings that might do the job she was itching to do.

"But... I thought they were extinct! Eh, I believe you. You made them extinct again? If it is safe, the miners can return to work," Hubert said excitedly.

"I bet their first task will be cleaning up the entrails the last shift left behind," Hawke sighed. What a wanker, this Hubert.

"A dragon killer and a mind reader. Wonderful!" Hubert said mildly amused. "Let us discuss your payment. You have been a great help." He rubbed his chin and appraised her again. Making her skin crawl. She rolled her shoulders to brush off the sensation. "Since you did so much more than I was expecting, how about we work together?" Hawke narrowed her eyes but listened. "I am offering a fifty fifty share in the mine. You will make us both rich if you can keep your countrymen safe."

Hawke knew what it was like coming to Kirkwall with nothing. Not everyone could fight like she could and some were forced to take shit jobs from shit people like Hubert. "Seems like the miners could use protection... and an adocate," she said pointedly.

Hubert grinned. "So to our first order of business, we replace the lost workers. I will hire new hands. Plenty of desperate Fereldens out there, but it will take some time. I need you to convince the surviving miners to return. They are holed up in Lowtown. Tell them the Bone Pit is safe again."

"I'll see what I can do," she agreed with a sigh.

She headed out of the market and walked toward the Chantry Courtard that would take her down to Lowtown near the Hanged Man. Fenris left them at the entry to the residential district and just as she was stepping a foot down the staircase leading down she was hailed. "You there... Ferelden. I wish to speak with you." She turned to face the man who had spoken. His accent was light, but clearly Orlesian, as if he had not been to Orlais in years. From the look of his clothes, he was a high born Kirkwaller. She narrowed her eyes as he approached her. "I've heard you have dealings with certain... elements... in the city. You can get things done, 'on the sly', as they say?"

"That's a fancy way to put it," she chuckled.

He sighed and shook his head as if even speaking to her was soiling his reputation. "I am a magistrate in this city and as such, I wish to hire you for a small, albeit important, job. A man I sentenced to a life in prison has escaped custody. He's been tracked to an abandoned ruin outside the city. I'd like you to retrieve the fugitive, and hand him over to the guard."

"Why is there such a clamor to catch this man? What has he done?" Hawke wondered.

"He's escaped. That is reason enough to catch him," the magistrate said evasively.

So why would he need someone like her? Why was the guard insufficient? "We're both intelligent people," she said, making him scoff in disbelief. "There's something in the ruins, isn't there?"

"There is something, yes. There are... creatures, in the ruins. The guards I sent are ill equipped to deal with such beasts," he admitted.

Hawke snorted. "It would be easier to seal up the entrance and let the beasts take care of him."

"I believe in justice, Ferelden, not unbridled slaughter," the magistrate said with an air of superiority and a sneer. "I will not let prisoners be eaten just because I don't want to get my hands dirty."

"I'll take the job," Hawke agreed with a sigh. Some people had no sense of humor.

"Bring the fugitive in alive, quickly and quietly," the man warned with a final wag of his finger. "Not only will you be well paid, you'll have the gratitude of a city magistrate. Useful for a refugee, wouldn't you agree?"

He walked off with his hands behind his back and his nose in the air. With a roll of her eyes, Hawke continued down to The Hanged Man. "It'll be dark soon. Do you really want to head out of the city?" Anders asked her softly.

"What better time to hunt fugitives than after dark?" she asked with a smirk.

Hawke found the group of miners and could practically hear Hubert groaning in displeasure as she offered them double their pay to return to the mine. With a satisfied grin, she headed over to where Carver was sitting at their usual table and kicked his chair. "Hey!" he grunted as his drink sloshed.

She took it from him and finished it before saying, "Come on. We have a job and I need your sword."

"What about your elf?" he grumbled, still sore that she had left him behind earlier.

"He had to get cleaned up. He got a bath in dragon blood today," she winked. "Are you coming or not? I'm not promising anything as fanciful as a dragon, but beasties are promised."

Glancing at Anders and sighing, Carver stood and gathered his sword and cloak. Outside the city at the ruin, there was a group of guards standing nervously outside the cave entrance. The one in charge squinted into the darkness as Hawke and her group approached with her staff brilliantly lighting their way.

"I hear you're in need of a bit of help," she said in way of greeting, dimming her staff so that he wasn't staring into the blinding light as they talked.

"Ah, so you're the reinforcements the magistrate promised," he said, sizing her up as most people did. She had noticed that as of late, her hard earned anonimity when entering a situation was no longer quite as anonymous. She was not overlooked as much as she used to be. Perhaps it was her blatant display of her magic. "The man you're looking for, he's holed up in the ruins. Though I doubt he's still in one piece."

Hawke glanced at the entrance to the cave and a new voice entered the open area. "That bastard's to be brought in alive after all he's done? Just because it isn't you and your pretty little shemlen children he's after..."

He was a middle aged elf, from the alienage no doubt, and he was livid. Hawke quirked a brow and flicked her eyes back at the guards. "Look at these guards. I doubt any of them has to worry about having 'pretty children', " she quipped.

"That's not what I meant," the elf growled, stopping between her and the guard in the small pool of her light. "The man you're after, he targets elves! He dragged my daughter into the ruins and killed her! I want him dead!" Hawke felt the humor drain from her face as the outrage seeped in to replace it. Her hand tightened around her staff. "My girl, Lia, she wasn't his first victim. Over the years, he's taken dozens of our children and not once has he paid for his crimes!"

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "There must be some humans who would take offense to these disappearances." Herself included.

"We're nothing to them. Even if this murderer does finally go before the courts, the magistrate won't take our word over his," the elf said angrily.

"I'll tear his throat out myself," Hawke growled, her magic flaring to warm the area.

"Thank you, serah! You have no idea what this means," the elf said with surprise. "For all my damned coin, I'm still only an elf to these shemlen. There'll be no justice for my girl in the courts of Kirkwall."

Hawke took a calming breath and slipped her uncaring mask back into place. "I'm sure I can't be blamed if I find him beaten into a bloody pulp by unknown assailants."

"Then that bastard will finally get what he deserves. Thank you," the elf said again.

"Not wise, stranger," the guard finally stepped in to intervene. "You try to take justice into your own hands, the magistrate'll have your head."

"Better men have tried, and failed.... horribly," she assured him with a devilish grin.

As he gaped in disbelief, she started toward the cave, her companions falling in behind her. Once inside the ruins, she was able to drop the spell from her staff, as the floor was lined on either side with rivulets of lava. The ruins were obviously dwarven. Hawke kept to the middle of the path, not keen on tripping on a loose rock and finding herself in one of the molten pits. At least it was a warm hell hole. The creatures turned out to be a mixture of large poisonous spiders as big as Varric, and corpses of their former victims that rose up from the ground to try and swarm her small group. The maze of rooms laid out geometrically took much longer to fight through than she would have liked since they were barred at every turn by locked doors. They soon came upon a young elven girl huddled on the floor and crying. When she heard them approaching, she turned her large eyes on Hawke and said softly, "Who are you? Please can you get me out of here? I just want to go home."

"Lia?" Hawke said as the girl got to her feet. She could not have been any older than fifteen. "Your father told us you were dead!"

"My father? Is he safe? Kelder said that he'd hurt my family if I didn't come with him..." she admitted, wringing her hands.

Hawke stepped up to her in surprise. "How did you escape your dastardly kidnapper? Kick to the groin? Sand in the eyes? Rock to the head?" she wondered. The girl looked no worse for the wear.

"Kelder? No, he let me go. I tried to make it to the entrance, but I hid when those... creatures... showed up," she turned anxiously to glance behind her. "I thought I heard him calling for me. I almost went back to him. I didn't want to be eaten. But Kelder... he was..." she hung her head sadly and touched her face. "He hit me, told me I was nothing. I begged him to stop hurting me. I didn't think he would, but out of nowhere, he pushed me away and just... started crying. Don't you see? He didn't mean to hurt me. He told me! There are demons, they make him do these horribe things."

Hawke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll have to remember to use that. 'A demon made me do it'!"

"There are a lot of cruel people out there, princess," Varric said gently. "Completely demon free."

"But.. it's true! How else could he do something like this?" Lia sobbed. "Please..." Stockholm syndrome at it's finest.

Hawke shook her head. "Sorry. He's a dead man."

"But it's not his fault! It's not!" Lia insisted.

Hawke stepped out of the way. "Run to the entrance. You'll find your father there."

Lia ran with a nod and a final sob. Kelder couldn't be far. Now all that was left was to deal with him. Hawke was letting him get to her. Preying on innocent kids. She growled to herself as her magic thrummed through the narrow hallway.

In the final room, she found the bastard. He sat against a pillar, looking like he had simply given up. He sighed deeply and in a soft voice said, "I knew my father would eventually send someone. I was hoping the beasts down here would get to me first."

"You wanted those creatures to kill you? Why?" Hawke asked, wondering what story he would spin for her like he had for Lia.

"It's what I deserve. I should be torn apart, forgotten down here. Not protected by my father." He looked away in genuine shame.

Hawke's brow rose. "From the magistrate's vague description, I expected a hardened criminal, not a whining coward."

Kelder stood and approached her, drawing the sounds of drawn weapons and the thrum of Anders' magic from behind her. "He didn't tell you, did he? The magistrate is my father." He looked down at his hands. "He's tried so hard to keep me, and what I've done, hidden away."

"He's known!" Anders growled. "And he's been protecting you this whole time?" From the hum of Fade around them, Justice was as angry as she was.

"The magistrate's more worried about keeping his job than _doing_ his job," Hawke agreed with a grunt.

"Father is a good man. He tried to help, to stop me. But he can't... no one can." Kelder turned away and paced from her space, opening his back to her. "That elf girl. She had no right to be so beautiful. So perfect. The demons said she needed to be taught a lesson, like all the others." He turned to face her again. "The Circle was supposed to help me, but they lied. They said there were no demons, that I was mad. This isn't my fault."

"I'm not getting paid enough for this," Hawke grumbled. There was no way he would be walking aorund if he'd gone to the Circle as a mage. She could feel that he had no magic.

He began to lose his cool, fidgeting and glancing around wildly. "I can't stop. I've tried so many times. Please, you have to kill me... There's no other way."

"There! See! He wants to die. Problem solved," Carver shouted, the point of his sword appearing by her side as he pointed it from behind her.

"Just tell my father I'm sorry... for everything," Kelder said, tipping his head to the side.

"Must you be so dramatic?" Hawke said coldly as she pulled her dagger from her belt and quickly swiped it across his throat from far enough away that she didn't get his blood on her. He looked peaceful as he dropped, happy to be free of his 'demons'. Hawke wiped her blade off on his clothes and secured it back in it's place. "You know, I might not be getting paid, but that felt good."

They left the ruins and the guards were still outside with Lia and her father who were tightly hugging each other. Hawke smiled at him as he noticed her. "You saved her! My little girl. I didn't dare hope... Did you find that monster? Is he dead?"

"We could bring him back as the undead and kill him again," she joked with a shrug.

"No, that's alright. I'd rather he stay dead," the elf said with a sneer. "I didn't belive an elf could ever get justice in Kirkwall. I speak for all of us when I say that we are in your debt, serah."

He took Lia under his arm and began to lead her back to the city. As Hawke watched, the guard approached her. "I feel just as bad for those knife-ears as the next man, but ignoring the magistrate's direct orders? That's madness."

As Hawke left without a backward look, she wondered if Aveline knew that she had a guard in her ranks that was in the magistrate's pocket.

 

They were heading home, passing the foundry district near midnight when Hawke caught a glimpse of the strangest thing. In the middle of the Lowtown streets, a lone chantry cleric stood in her pristine robes calling out for anyone who would be willing to help her and jangling a heavy looking coin purse about. Hawke was content to ignore the idiocy until Anders grabbed her arm when a familiar face from one of Athenril's rival gangs approached her. They paused to watch as the man led the more than willing sister into an alley. Varric sighed. "Another sad Lowtown tale in the making. As if we needed another."

"Can you save someone so intent on being foolish?" Hawke mused as she quietly took her staff in her hands and followed after the figures. The woman was already surrounded by several of the gang's thugs and Hawke tapped her staff on the ground and cleared her throat to get their attention. With her lips pressed together, she shook her head scoldingly. "I'm certain the sister here was not asking to be robbed by the likes of you."

The thugs were no match for two mages, a skilled swordsman and Bianca. When the last one fell, the sister approached Hawke. "Well, thank you for your timely intervention. I am... out of my element."

Something about the woman put a sour taste in the back of Hawke's throat as she spoke. "Surely you didn't realize that just now."

The woman shrugged and then held her hand out to encompass all of Lowtown. "I had to come here to get the type of person I need. Someone of bloody skill, but also integrity. Perhaps the kind who might leap to someone's defense. I have a charge who needs passage from the city. If you are willing and capable, meet me at my safehouse nearby."

Hawke crossed her arms as the woman held a slip of paper out to her, likely with the address of the safehouse. "I just saved you in an alley and suddenly we're in business?"

"You're in Lowtown. What grand scheme could I be interrupting?" The sister said haughtily as if Hawke were something foul she had stepped in on the street. "Varnell!"

The clank of armor from behind drew Hawke's attention and a templar appeared from the shadows. "A bloody templar. Just what we need," Carver groaned quietly as he shook his head.

"I hope you will come," the sister said, moving past Hawke to stand with the templar and slipping her address in Hawke's lapel. "This matter only grows more urgent with time."

After they had disappeared, Hawke looked at the address and then glanced up at her companions. "What do you all think?"

"I think the fool woman will not be as lucky next time," Carver grunted. Hawke agreed and sighed. Her night had just gotten longer.

After urging them to go home, Varric and Anders still decided to follow after Hawke. They were curious about what charge the woman might be smuggling from the city. The safehouse was right across the street from Gamlen's and Hawke had to force herself not to just give up and turn away from this nonsense. The sister had rubbed her wrong. But coin was coin. She pushed open the unlocked door and stepped in. In the middle of the common room, the templar drew his weapons and glared at her. "Nice to see you, too," Hawke quipped, not threatened in the least.

The templar sneered, but glanced behind him where the sister stood. She waved him off and his weapons disappeared. "I thank you for coming. This matter is delicate and I need someone of... limited notoriety who will not link this to me." After pausing and yet again sizing up Hawke and her people, she continued. "It is an escort, but I think you will agree, the nature of the party makes this... unique."

"Time is wasting. Who is going where?" Hawke asked flippantly.

"I am Sister Petrice. I have assumed a burden of charity. This is my charge..." She disappeared through the door she was standing in and returned with a gigantic Qunari. He was bound with a powerful magical collar, draped in chains, and his mouth was sewn shut. The mask he wore over his eyes had only small holes for him to see from and his horns had been sawed to nubs.

"Twist my tale," Varric mumbled in awe.

Petrice drew Hawke's attention back to her. "Would even a templar bind a mage like this?" Petrice looked up at the Qunari and smiled. "A survivor of infighting with their Tal Vashoth outcasts. I call him 'Ketojan', a bridge between worlds. The viscount and others feel that peace begins with appeasement. This mage would likely be returned to his brutal kin. He can serve a better purpose. I want him free. He must be guided from the city without alerting his people, or being seen in my care."

"I've had dealings with the Qunari leader. He'd want to know of this," Hawke said reluctantly.

"You... have dealt with their leader?" Petrice said in shock. "If you have interacted with Qunari, you know how they treat those who leave their heathen order. The Arishok would doom this poor creature." Hawke glanced back at the Qunari, wondering what his opinion was of all of this. "But knowing them is useful. If they challenged you, attacking an ally would only confirm their barbarism. You are still right for the task."

"I can get him out of Kirkwall," Hawke said softly as she watched the large creature just stand there as if the world around him meant nothing. "He's a bit conspicuous for the streets though."

"Better out there than here with the templar," Carver grumbled as the man kept a close watch on Hawke.

"That is obviously not an option. You must avoid incident with the guards," Petrice insisted. "I cannot be linked to this. This mage will be a fine example of how cruel Qunari are, even to their own. But only if this plays out just so. The passage here leads out to the warrens of the Undercity. It is dangerous, but that is why you were hired. Good luck." She pointed to a hatch in the floor of the room where she had been keeping the Qunari.

With Hawke in the lead, they climbed down into the tunnels. For something so large, the Qunari was as silent as the dead as he followed along behind them. Hawke slowly navigated the maze of tunnels, not wanting to get lost in the giant spider infested sewers. The hissing all around them had her carrying her staff in her hands with the crystal glowing brightly in the otherwise darkened tunnels. "I saw you bring down a dragon earlier today, Hawke. You can't tell me you're afraid of giant spiders." Anders whispered teasingly as she shone her light into the corners.

"There are very few things in this world that unnerve me," she said without gracing him with a glance. "Spiders and tranquil..." she listed. "You will note that I said unnerve, not scare."

He chuckled, his voice breaking the silence and making the spiders hiss more vehemently. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey, blondie, maybe _not_ provoking the spiders would be a good idea," Varric said in hushed tones. "They're usually bigger than me."

Anders pressed his lips together in a small grin and silently brightened his own crystal, helpfully casting more light on the situation. Near the end of the tunnel, they ran upon a group of thugs who had set up their base in a wide opening in the cavern. One of the men stood from his perch and approached them with his lip curled back. "Look at this. Undercity's feared by all, but there's no shortage of fools with coin who want to test it. What is this thing, collared like a dog lord's bitch?" His eyes fell on Hawke as she stepped ahead of the others. "You some sort of Qunari lover? Maybe I should get rid of you and see who'll pay the most for your pet."

The Qunari finally made a peep after following in utter silence the entire trip. He took one step forward and growled at the man. One of the thug's followers joined him and said warily, "Uh, I don't think it likes you threatening it's master. Maybe we let this one pass?"

"A voice of reason," Hawke chuckled as the leader moved closer to her. "What's he doing with you?"

"You lot think you're so damned right, buying everything, running Free Marchers like me into our own sewers." The distinct sound of a blade being loosed from it's sheathe put Hawke on edge. "You want us bound, like this thing. I'll see you dead first!"

Before she could react, the knife was up and the Qunari pulled hard on the ambient mana in the atmosphere, thinning the air around them. Hawke dropped to a knee as the magic lashed out at the thugs, knocking them all away from her and the others with a huge shockwave of raw power. She recovered and stood, staring wide eyed at the Qunari as he returned to dormancy. "By the void!" The smart thug shouted. "Kill it! Kill them all!"

Hawke readied her staff, twirling it around in her fingers and then jammed it into the ground. The shockwave of fire erupted in front of her, rippling along the ground to burst upwards beneath the line of recovering bandits. Bianca clanked noisily as more bandits swarmed in from all angles of the field, obviously knowing this area better than Hawke and her people. Anders' barrier rushed along her skin and she shuddered as she did every time his magic touched her. Carver rushed ahead of her to the flaming bandits and cut a line through them. Hawke turned in place, readying her spell and counting the others joining the fray. Anders was drawing a glyph in the air before him and she watched as he pushed his mana through it, the magic exiting the other side in the form of small chunks of sharp ice shards that rocketed in all directions to seek out their enemies. Her own spell was ready and she lifted her arms into the air, drawing focus from her staff and casting the large crackling bolt of lightning that jumped from one bandit to the next, sparking noisily in the confined space. The air charging around them made the hair on her neck stand on end. It was exhilirating to cast from beneath Anders' barrier with her new staff. Unfortunately, the bandits all fell and she had no excuse to cast any more.

She whirled angrily on the glowing Qunari who had not cast a single spell since the wave of energy that had started it all, but was wreathed in angry flames. "They get the idea, Qunari... Ketojan... whatever! Calm yourself!" He growled, but settled his stance and the flames receded. She sneered in return. "I'm getting you out of here before you 'help' again." The Qunari tipped it's head and rumbled another incoherent growl. "Still clear as a bell. Great!"

Dawn was approaching as they exited the pass. She thought she recognized where they were and realized it would make the trek back to Kirkwall much easier if they went outside the tunnels. She had gotten the Qunari out of the city and now she was wondering what she was supposed to do with him. He still followed at her heel like a lost puppy. She sighed and picked a path that would lead her to the coast. They did not get far until a large group of Qunari stopped them in their tracks.

"You will hold, basra vashedan. I am Arvaarad, and I claim possession of Saarebas at your heel," one of them said, the others gathering behind him as he held up a hand. "The members of his karataam were killed by Tal Vashoth, but their disposal leads only here, to Saarebas and you."

"How did I know this job would end in more Qunari...?" Hawke sighed.

The talkative Qunari scoffed. "You speak as if ignorance is your natural condition. The bodies of his slain karataam could lead only here. I do not know how you come to hold his leash, but you have no claim in the Qun. He will be returned and this crime cleansed."

"And if he doesn't want to go back?" Hawke asked conversationally. She wanted to be very careful with these Qunari. There were a lot of them and coming up against Tal Vashoth had ended badly for her.

Approaching them, the leader demanded. "Saarebas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun." The mage knelt and growled submissively. "He has only followed you because he wants to be led. He is allowed no other purpose."

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "You don't care that someone abused your dead to get you here?"

"No doubt they were cast from your shoulders as you or your partner thieves grew weak," he grunted. "it is a crime whose victims are beyond caring. It will be dealt with, but the greater threat is clear. It is my role to secure Saarebas. It is the role of another to purge the perversions of your kind."

Hawke sighed. "My job was to get him out of the city. If he want's to go back to you, that's his business."

"You show an unusual ability to reason, basra." He returned his attention to the mage and said, "Saarebas! Nehraa aqun ehra kata Avraarad?" The mage got back to his feet and growled, then nodded. The leader took a step closer and his brow knotted into a frown. "You are certain?" The mage growled again and Hawke wondered how the leader knew what the mage was trying to say. He pulled out a long golden rod that looked a lot like the pictures she'd seen of golem control rods. Then he spoke again. "Then we will do it here." The rod began to glow and Hawke felt magic in the air just before a sound like a snapping whip assaulted her ears. The mage stumbled and then shook his head before turning his hindered gaze on her.

"Basvaarad, you led well. I thank your intent. Panahedan, as you find the Qun," the large mage said in a gravelly unused voice. He offered her a short bow and then moved to kneel again before the leader.

"You should be honored by this action, basra," the leader said to Hawke. "It is his last." He drew his sword and swiftly shoved it through the mage's chest.

"Maker!" Anders said with a choked whimper. "You were to take him back to the Qun!"

"He lost his lead," the leader said almost sadly. "The risk of corruption was certain. But he has owned his death by honoring you. He knows the Qun once more... as will you."

Hawke took a step back. "You'd try to kill me after everything we've been through?" she said in mock horror.

"An uncollared Saarebas spoke to you. You were already exposed, but there's no way to know what demons may have ridden his words. Killing you is demanded. But the respect of Saarebas has granted honor. Be grateful. Not every neck earns the ceremonial cut." He took a fighting stance and Hawke was already feeling Anders' barrier blanketing the area.

Her own staff spun wildly as she called upon a tempest followed by a firestorm that would encompass the entire group of Qunari that had helpfully gathered in such a tight formation. She maintained the double spells as long as she could, her mana seeping from her with each passing second. Varric was efficiently sniping many of the dodging Qunari as they attempted to flee from her ring of death. Boulder sized fireballs and thick, crackling bolts of lightning rained down around the Qunari. Carver rushed in and ducked into the center of the bundled Qunari to swing his sword in a broad arc and take out all of the Qunari in reach. Hawke eased back on the tempest, putting her remaining mana into the firestorm, the balls falling more frequently to splash dangerously hot bits of rock and earth all around. Finally, she was spent, her arms dropping to her sides before she leaned heavily on her knees with her palms, feeling a little bit woozy from the exertion and from not sleeping all night. Anders stepped in front of her, a wash of healing magic slipping into her limbs as he blocked her from any of the Qunari that might get cocky as her magic faded. A wall of ice jutted up before them as he swept the head of his staff along the ground. "Are you all right, Hawke?"

"Fine. How many are left?" she managed to fish a lyrium potion from her belt and was trying to pull the cork with shakey fingers when he placed a hand over it and lowered hers.

"We got them all." He was facing her with a smile, the sounds of battle fading and Varric emerging from around the ice wall with Bianca slung over his shoulder.

"Maybe a bit of overkill there, Hawke?" he asked, glancing around at the charred earth as the air filled with the distinct scent of ash and petrichor.

"You'll recall that the last time I went up against Qunari, I was speared through the gut?" she asked with a raised brow as Anders touched his hand briefly to her shoulder to discreetly slip her some of his remaining mana.

Varric chuckled shortly. "Yeah, I'd prefer not to recall that, thank you."

"And I would prefer not to repeat it," she said with a sigh. "Let's get back to Kirkwall. Even my lumpy bunk is sounding inviting."

"Maker forbid," Carver grumbled, falling into step behind her as Anders lingered by her side, nervously watching her for signs of exhaustion.

The farther they walked, the more she thought about the Qunari and the trail they had followed. She clenched her fists as she realized what had happened. "Determined from the start. Petrice set a trail."

"If she was behind this, I have some questions for her," Anders said as her epiphany settled on him as well.

 

Hawke barged into the safehouse, her anger flaring in the form of barely controlled heat. She was tired, but she wanted to catch Petrice before she had a chance to flee. She and her pet templar were scouring the safehouse and Hawke heard her rapidly issuing orders. "Leave nothing. It must be clean with no ties. It..." she paused as she realized Hawke had joined them. Her temporary shock at seeing Hawke alive was soon covered by a mask of lies. "Well. My helpful associate from the streets. You... took the Qunari from the city? Without incident?"

"I think the 'incident' was rather your idea," Varric said smoothly.

"Mind your tongue, dwarf," the until now silent templar said threateningly.

"Please. Do speak your mind," Petrice corrected.

"Don't string me along," Hawke accused with her own humorous mask slipping on over her anger. "You know that I know."

"Whether you believe it or not, I wished you no harm. That might have been useful for someone, but still regrettable. A massacre of citizens protecting a slave might have forced the Chantry to doubt appeasement, to see the Qunari for the monsters they are." Petrice shrugged. "Perhaps finding the mage was a rushed opportunity. If such a plot existed, I see how it might be... disagreeable to you." That was certainly one way to put it. Disagreeable indeed.

"Your 'Ketojan' chose to go back and be killed rather than be free," Hawke informed her, just to see if she even gave a nug's ass.

"I assumed he wanted to escape, just as I would... My pity is genuine, but they are not like us."

Hawke crossed her arms. " 'If'...? 'Perhaps'...? Why dance around this lie? I'm standing right here."

Petrice's eyes narrowed. "If a member of the Chantry admitted instigation, I have no doubt it would result in more appeasement... But an accusation from a Lowtown thug... You are hardly that important. That's not an insult... it's why I chose you. Rest assured, excuses, real or imagined, are not for your benefit."

"I won't forget this, Sister," Hawke said nonchalantly.

"Take your coin," she threw a purse at Hawke's chest and it clinked as she caught it before it fell to the floor. "Disappear back into Lowtown. Rest assured I will not make the mistake of looking for help outside the faithful again. The stakes... eternity... are just too high."

"We'll be hearing from that one again," Varric sighed as he patted Hawke's elbow after the Sister and the templar left. "Go home and get some sleep, Hawke. It's been a long day."

 

Hawke spent the next week scouring the Chanter's board, looking for work. She was so close to the coin she needed for the expedition that she could taste it. She kicked a stone along the cobblestones of Hightown after she came up with nothing on the board. She resigned herself to the climb up the stairs to the Viscount's keep so she could possibly glean some work out of Aveline. Her boots thunked heavily on the stairs. The weather was uncharacteristically mild for this time if year in Kirkwall and she unbuttoned her coat to give Aveline a glimpse of the armor she had given her. Through the entrance to the barracks, a few eyes fell curiously on her and her staff, but she held onto her 'I'm supposed to be here' air of nonchalance and nobody stopped her. Aveline was in the old Captain's office pouring over training manuals and looking exceptionally bored. Hawke entered and sat on the edge of the desk, taking the top manual from beneath Aveline's nose and turning it so she could read a few lines. "Hawke? What are you doing here?" Aveline asked, admiring the armor before snatching the book back with a smirk.

"Oh, I was just wondering if you might have any work for your oldest friend?" Hawke said wistfully before pouting.

"Killing dragons in the Bone Pit wasn't lucrative enough?" Aveline teased. "I heard you gained a share in the mine for your trouble."

"I won't start seeing profit for that until the mine is cleared and Hubert can hire more workers," Hawke complained, lifting her leg to prop her foot on the desk.

Aveline shooed her boot and sighed. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I don't have anything personally, but I did hear the Viscount is offering a reward for the return of his son."

"His son is missing?" Hawke said excitedly. "Oh, Aveline you should have informed me immediately."

"I was a bit preoccupied," she said apologetically as she swept her hands out to encompass the piles of paperwork on her desk.

"It's okay. I still love you." Hawke hopped from the desk and grinned. "So who do I talk to for information about the boy?"

"I believe Seneschal Bran is handling the details," Aveline said, her nose already back in her books.

Hawke left the barracks and crossed the entry hall to the Viscount's office. She waited her turn as a harsh looking woman dressed in rogueish armor with two daggers on her hips shouted at an unimpressed Seneschal. The man sighed and spoke as if he were repeating himself to a small child. "Insist if you must, but Viscount Dumar will see no one! If you've news of Saemus, I will relay it to him."

"Fine," she grunted angrily. "Tell Dumar my scouts have tracked the boy and his Qunari captor to the Wounded Coast. I'm taking a full company after them, and when I return, I expect him to make a show of the reward."

"So many to deal with one Qunari seems... excessive," Bran said with a raised brow.

"He may be Tal Vashoth. The Winters leave nothing to chance," she said before storming past Hawke to leave the keep. "Get out of my bloody way!"

Hawke watched her go before approaching Bran. "Yes, what is it?" he asked in exasperation.

"If this is about a rescue, that woman did not seem the type," Hawke quipped.

"She is the type I feared we would attract. As I told the others, Viscount Dumar's son, Saemus, is missing. We suspect he was taken by a Qunari. If you would like to try your hand at securing his _safe_ return, feel free. I have certainly granted no exclusivity to the Winters and their violent approach." Bran shook his head.

Hawke grinned. "Ready the reward, he'll be back in no time."

"Declare it if you like, but the reward goes to whomever brings him back safe. A discussion you are welcome to have with the Winters should you encounter them... On the Wounded Coast..." he said pointedly.

After the Seneschal dipped back into his office, Hawke left the Keep and headed for Lowtown to gather a few helpers. If the woman was sending a whole compliment as she said, they would need the extra hands if it came to a fight.

They left the Hanged Man with her own compliment of companions. Isabela, Varric, Carver, Anders and Merrill. That should be enough to fend off the Winters if it came to that. Rescuing the Viscount's son would likely be all of the revenue she would need to get this thing moving. Hawke walked with a skip in her step to the Wounded Coast. She might be weeks away from a better life. Her mother had said she had an appointment with the Viscount in a few months, but it might not even be necessary. If the expedition was everything Bartrand was promising, she could buy her family's estate back outright without involving the Viscount.

They came upon the Winters and Saemus standing over a single dead Qunari. Hawke was grateful she wasn't going to have to fight Qunari, but things didn't seem to be as dire for Saemus as the Viscount had assumed. He fell to his knees, in grief, over the Qunari body. Hawke cocked her head and watched from the edge of the cliff where the group had gathered, deciding if Saemus needed her involvement. "And the world is rid of one more Qunari," the woman from the keep said snidely. "Easier than I expected. Call the men back. We've got an appointment with the Viscount. Isn't that right, Saemus?"

Saemus stood up and from the set of his shoulders, he was furious. Hawke twitched from her hiding spot, feeling like he was ready to attack the woman. That was more than obviously a bad idea. "Ashaad," he gasped. "You killed him... You... You vashedan bitch!"

"That one of _their_ words?" the woman asked, clearly unimpressed by his outburst. "See that's why you need to be dragged home. You're playing too nice with these things. I wager you've gone even further than that, haven't you, brat!"

Hawke had heard enough. She stepped further into the clearing, a few of her people joining her. "A little rough for a rescue, don't you think?" she said nonchalantly.

"Competition?" the woman sighed with a roll of her eyes as she looked over Hawke with Isabela and Merrill at her back and looking very underprepared. "Well, you're too late. The Winters... I... have already claimed him."

"Serah!" Saemus said desperately to Hawke. "If I must go back, so be it, but I will not see these... murderers rewarded!"

The woman reacted, her hands reaching for her daggers. "Spoiled shit!" Saemus backed up, cowering behind his hands. "I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!" Then she turned her attention to Hawke as the rest of Hawke's entourage began to show themselves. "And as for you... I could do with some entertainment while we wait for the others."

Hawke's quick hands pulled her staff and deployed the hidden dagger. She lifted the butt of the staff and it slashed across the woman's leather armor, cleanly breaking through the straps and buckles to find the skin beneath. The woman stumbled backwards, and the rest of her flunkies engaged Hawke and her people. Hawke took the second to push Saemus out of the way so he could cower in safety. From the look of his clothes, pristine even in the middle of nowhere, he had never seen a real fight. Isabela stepped in to take the men closing around Hawke so she could cast, and Carver had finished what Hawke had started on the woman, cleaving her nearly in two along Hawke's slash. Hawke helped Merrill with crowd control while Anders tended to keeping the front line healed. The combination of his smooth creation magic mixing with Merrill's sticky entropic spells was an odd sensation along Hawke's skin as she tried to concentrate on her own primal casting. When the small group of Winters had been dispatched, Saemus sputtered as he approached Hawke. "Dead and good riddance, but... she said she was waiting for more. A lot more!"

"Well, let them come," Carver said wiping blood from his sword.

Hawke glanced at her companions. "Strip the camp and we'll ready a fitting welcome."

Varric and Isabela set traps along the bottleneck where the Winters' reinforcements would have to come to get to them. Anders laid ice mines before the traps as well, and Hawke readied her firestorm for the men who would get stuck in the explosive freezing spells. When the second wave had been handled, Saemus was shuddering. "Oh Andraste, I've never seen so many corpses, so much blood..."

Hawke chuckled. "Soil yourself later. There might be more of them."

She happened to be right. A final smaller wave of attackers came up against the rougue traps and Merrill dropped them all with a single sleep spell, making them easy targets for Isabela's daggers. When the last of them were dead, Hawke approached Saemus who had made his way to the side of the dead Qunari. "Ashaad," he said quietly. "never lied, never coddled. You were worth his time or you were not. They are not the brutes others claim they are. Take me to my father, and I will try again to make him see." Saemus stood, ready to go.

"I confess," Hawke said gently. "I'm not sure what one does with a dead Qunari."

Saemus smiled sweetly and tipped his head. "The body is no longer him and is worthy of no special treatment. That is apparently their way."

"Should his people be told?" Hawke wondered. The Arishok didn't seem like a secrets kind of person.

"They will know," Saemus assured her. "Whether they will deign to acknowledge it, I have no idea. There was much of Ashaad that I didn't understand, but it was so very worth trying."

"Let's get you back to your father," Hawke said, holding her palm out for him to come with her. He tipped his head and followed her merry band back to Kirkwall.

He was quiet along the way, and Hawke left him to his grief, lingering to the rear of the group to keep an eye on him as well as enjoy the view of Anders and Isabela walking together as they chatted. With a haggard sigh, she kicked at the dirt beneath her feet as she dragged her attention away from the two glorious rear ends ahead of her when Varric cleared his throat. "You seem a little... frustrated, Hawke. If you'd like, I could buy you a night at the Rose."

She snorted. "I don't think it's quite that bad."

He shrugged. "Keep chewing that bottom lip and you aren't going to have one left," he warned.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a roll of her eyes.

When they got back to the keep, Hawke followed alone after Saemus as he stormed up to his father's office. Seneschal Bran fell in behind them as Saemus said, "Father..."

"My son," the Viscount said in relief, approaching his son. It was Hawke's first real look at the man. He was of average height and dressed according to his station, although he made it seem humble. His head was completely bald, holding up a thin, pointy crown and he had purposeful white stubble on his weary face. His sharp blue eyes nearly rivaled her own in intensity. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Enough, Father," Saemus said dismissively.

"Er, Allow me to present one Serah Hawke, Your Excellency. She fulfilled the bounty," Bran said, surprising her that he remembered her name at all.

"You have my gratitude," the Viscount said professionally. "I hope you encountered no great difficulties on my son's behalf."

"No problems to speak of," Hawke said flapping a dismissive hand. "Aside from the crowd that tried to kill us."

"I was told the Winters had involved themselves. Was there no way to avoid an incident?" The Viscount asked with a sigh.

"They murdered my friend," Saemus stepped in, putting himself between her and his father. "Where is the concern for that?" His arms were crossed and his shoulders rigid.

"It was my understanding that you were captured alone... foolishly traipsing about the coast as you do," the Viscount sighed, his head drooping.

"I was _not_ capured. I was with Ashaad. The Qunari. They are not monsters to be feared," Saemus almost pleaded."If you would just try to understand. Others would see as well."

"Better that you were thought abducted, than to have their influence suspected in my own family... benign or not, it's too much."

Hawke backed up and put her hands up in front of her. "A little too much insight into the office for me," she said with a breathy chuckle.

"Your actions are appreciated," the Viscount said, turning his attention on her. "The seneschal will see you out."

Bran escorted her from the office and handed her a heavy purse. With a half salute she left, politely waiting until she was outside to open the purse and count her earnings. Her jaw nearly hit the ground as five whole sovereigns glittered in the small pouch, finally tipping her savings over 50 sovereigns. A chat with Varric and Bartrand and they could leave. She was one expedition away from hopefully never having to wake up to stare at the same crusty bowl of oatmeal that Gamlen never seemed to clean up. She was convinced at this point that it was staring back at her.

She raced down to the Hanged Man, to give Varric the news. It was not even mid day yet, and the lunch crowd had not shown up. "Pack your bags, Varric!" she sang, dropping the purse on the table in front of him.

"Maker's balls," Varric said as he dumped the coin onto the table and grinned. "I knew you could do it Hawke. Let me buy you a drink to celebrate."

"One drink. Then we can go and see your brother," she smirked back, dropping herself into the seat across from him.

 

An hour later, they were standing in front of Bartrand as the dwarf flicked his eyes suspiciously between Varric and her. "Varric, where did you get off to? And what are you planning?"

"Bartrand!" Varric said with a chuckle, throwing his arms out to the sides. "So suspicious! I have, in fact, brought us our future partner!"

Hawke grinned triumphantly as Bartrand's eyes narrowed further and he glared at Varric. "What!? Partner? You stupid, nug humping, dirt farmer! Why did you go promising something like that?"

"Because,"Varric explained slowly as if talking to a child. "If we don't get this expedition moving, Brother, then we won't have any profits to argue about, will we?"

"Hmph, maybe you have a point," Bartrand admitted grudgingly.

Hawke chuckled softly. "There's so much love here. It's very comforting."

"What I'd love is the coin to back up my brother's confidence. How about it, human?" Bartrand grumbled.

"I do have your coin, in fact," Hawke said, indicating the chest at Carver's feet.

"You're joking," Bartrand said in disbelief.

"What did I tell you, Bartrand? Not bad for a human," Varric said, nudging his brother.

"All right, partner," Bartrand said, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Full share of the profit between you me and Varric." Hawke's heart began to race. This was actually happening. She'd worked beyond hard to get where she was. Now all she needed was for it to pay off. "Now we just need a decent entrance into the Deep Roads."

"These might be just what we need," she said, throwing a wink behind her at Anders as she pulled the maps from her pocket and handed them over.

Bartrand gasped as he looked over the maps. "What's this? Three... FOUR, entrances into the Deep Roads, all in the Free Marches? Where did you get these?"

Anders chuckled softly. "A wizard did it," he said.

"Well, color me astounded." Bartrand began pacing as he began planning in his head. "We just pick the most promising one and go." He actually let out a chuckle and grinned at Hawke. "Time to wrap up any business you have in the city, my friend. We'll be gone for several weeks at least. Meet me back here in two days. I'll have everything planned out then."

 


	7. Into the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Expedition takes off and Hawke struggles with her emotions.

When Hawke returned home, it was only just after noon. With nothing else to do, she checked her messages and found one last thing that piqued her interest.

_Proud Scion of the Hawke family,_

_I dare not contact you directly, but we have met before, and I know you to be a person of good character and unusual ability. Indulge me in a meeting outside the city, for I require your aid in a delicate task. As a token of good faith, I have enclosed a modest sum. There will be more waiting if you can help._

_Please come as soon as you receive this. If you do not, the lives of many innocents may be on my hands._

_Sincerely, A Friend._

She had a few days and time to spare. More coin never hurt. She turned back around and left Gamlen's to head to the Hanged Man for some back up, in case her 'friend' wasn't so friendly as he let on. She ended up with her usual crew of Varric, Carver and Anders at her back as they exited the city. The meeting place was not far from the city and when they arrived, she recognized the templar Thrask whose daughter had been killed while they were searching for Feynril. His expression was troubled as she approached, her staff in her hands. He cocked his head, but said nothing of the revelation. "Mistress Hawke," he said with a nod.

"So much for not attracting templar attention," Carver said with a sigh.

"Arianni tells me you sought a better path than the Circle for her son Feynril. I thought perhaps you would be willing to show mages a kindness once more," Thrask said softly.

"What? You can't be nice yourself?" Hawke asked jokingly, crossing her arms.

"You are no templar. You cannot know what a badge of shame that would be," Thrask sighed sadly. "There are a number of apostates hiding in those caverns." He thrust his thumb over his shoulder to the gaping maw of a cave behind him.

"We are not going to kill Aposates for you," Anders said indignantly. Hawke nudged his ribs and cocked her head to continue to listen to Thrask as he corrected the assumption.

"I was hoping you might speak to the group, convince them to surrender peacefully before my fellow templars arrive," Thrask said desperately.

"If you've got this many mages escaping, you templars aren't too good at your jobs," Hawke teased.

"They were not our charges," Thrask explained. "They were en route to Kirkwall from Starkhaven when they escaped. These mages have shown they attack templars on sight. You have a better chance than I to convince them they are better off alive in the Circle than free and dead. Ser Karras hunts them as well. If they have not surrendered by the time he arrives, this will be a blood bath."

Inside the cave, Hawke's skin crawled.There was a lot of death seeping from the ground that had collected over the years. In the first open cavern, she heard shuffling and the sound of running footsteps before a staff lit up at the other end of the room to illuminate the scene. A young man in Circle robes sported a fresh slice in his palm that dripped blood into his spellwork as he cast. Hawke recognized the pull of blood magic just before the first corpse lifted itself from the ground and threw itself at Varric. She grabbed it by the scruff of it's bony neck, yanking it away and slammed it to the ground so she could stomp it's skull with her boot. Several more of the dead both on top of and beneath the dirt began to attack. Hawke called a firestorm before darting between the falling flames and heading for the caster. She slipped her blade loose and swung her staff upwards, slicing a red ribbon in his leg. As he stumbled, she flipped the staff and touched the head to his chest and the lightning shocked through his heart, stopping it mid beat. As he crumpled, she spun to help finish off the dead. Anders gasped in horror when they had shattered the last skeleton. "They've raised the bloody dead! They must be truly desperate. Please tell me we aren't going to force these poor fools back into the Circle..."

Hawke didn't know how to handle this situation. Instead of answering, she pressed her lips together and went forward, further into the cave system. There were traces of life that made her believe that this had once been a mine of some sort. Kirkwall and it's surrounding area had these types of systems abandoned everywhere.The next mage they happened upon looked terrified as the dead rose up around him. Hawke didn't see a cut of any kind on him, and she realized that the corpses weren't his doing. She layed a small barrier around him before she pummeled the dead in a circle around him with a fist of the Maker spell. The skeletons not caught in her spell ran for them and Anders sent a jet of flames from the tip of his staff to set them ablaze and panic them so Carver could group them together and take them down with one swipe of his large blade. Hawke approached the cowering young man. He looked at her from under his hood with wild eyes. "Maker's Blessing! I thought I was going to die down here in this... this tomb! Are you with the templars? Please... I need to go back to the Circle. I never wanted to get involved in this. Not when he started making those... those things!"

Hawke sighed and rolled her eyes. "Runaway mages resorting to blood magic. How very original."

"Decimus," the boy said. "It was his decision. He kept saying the templars would label us blood mages if we fled... why not use it if it's our best tool?" He was wringing his hands together, clearly terrified. Maker, he was so young. "He slit his wrist, and the magic... it rose from the blood and woke the skeletons in the cave. I ran. Decimus is wrong... Blood magic is a work of evil, not just a power the templars keep from us for spite!"

"Someone starts raising undead and it's all downhill from there..." Hawke quipped.

"I've been at the Circle since I was six. I've heard about demons, blood magic... they warned us, but I never thought I'd see it... The rest of them. They're still following Decimus. He's gone mad. I think he'd kill us all just to take the templars down."

"Ser Thrask waits outside. You will be safe there," Hawke pointed, letting the frightened boy go.

After the boy ran, Hawke and the others left the cavern to follow a narrow staircase up into the main facility. They found the rest of the mages kneeling around a blonde man in his early forties as he cast some ritual spell around them. One of the women looked up, hearing them approach and she stood from her knees, breaking his concentration. He wheeled on them and Hawke could see the crazy in his eyes. "They're here! The templars have come to take us back to the Circle!" he shouted.

"Decimus, no! Stay your hand!" the woman begged. "These are no templars."

"What do I care what shield they carry?" he shouted and the woman turned and ran to hide as he began to cast. "If they challenge us, the dead themselves will meet the call!"

Hawke and her group were caught between the mages loyal to Decimus and the dead he raised behind them. They needed to take him down, but it was hard to lock him down as he fade stepped all around the cavern. Hawke centered herself and called her earth magic, crouching to lower her center of gravity as she sent an earthquake through the cavern. Stalactites fell around her, smashing some of the skeletons that attempted to swipe at her with jagged calcified swords. The spell interrupted Decimus' fade stepping long enough for her to grab a hold of him in a crushing prison.She flung a fireball into the cylinder of magic and Decimus burned, even as the spell crushed his lungs. She drew in the earthquake to allow her friends free movement again and then used her remaining mana to call a firestorm down around them to smite the rest of the skeletons and a few more mages. When the battle was over, she paused to take a breath and the woman who had fled returned from her hiding spot.

"You killed him! Oh, Decimus, you should have listened to me, love..." She hung her head, her brown hair falling over her face to hide the stark purple tattoo she had around her right eye. Then she glanced back up at Hawke with a small snarl. "I saw what you are! How could you murder one of your own just for daring to defy the templars?!"

"You think he brought those skeletons to life to serve me tea?" Hawke asked with an exhausted snort.

"I warned him," the woman sighed gently and glanced over at Decimus' charred corpse. "I told him, once he marked himself as a blood mage, that was all anyone would see."

"She's lying," Carver growled.

"I swear to you," she said, raising her hands in defense. "I have had no truck with demons. Please... we only want our freedom. Without your help, the templars will execute us all for Decimus' crimes."

"If not the Circle, how do you intend to live?" Hawke wondered, straightening her stance as her mana slowly returned.

"I hear there are places, outside the Free Marches, where the templars are not so vigilant." the girl said hopefully.

Hawke knew what it was to be an apostate, but it was better than being locked up any day. She resolved to help the ones who had not attacked her. They had been desperate. "Why not? It's not like I'll be joining the templars any time soon."

"Then we must first throw off pursuit," the woman sighed in relief. "There is a templar who followed us. You must have met him when you entered. Kill him, and we can get clear of Kirkwall before the templars send more men."

"Better the death of one templar than so many innocents," Anders suggested softly.

He didn't know Thrask. She didn't want to kill the man. He was one of the good ones. "These are blood mages, not like you or Bethany," Carver pleaded. "And what do you think happens if we start killing templars?"

"Will you buy us time to flee Kirkwall?" the woman asked.

Hawke cocked her hip and placed a hand on it with a smirk. "Leave it to me. By the time I'm done, these templars will swear that the sky is green."

"Your confidence almost makes me believe you... But I spent two weeks traveling with these templars. They strike first and think after. They are far easier to kill than to fool," the woman said skeptically.

Hawke waved a hand and snorted, heading back the way they had come in. It was time to put her silver tongue to good use for once. The mages followed at a discreet distance. Outside the cavern, Thrask had been joined by another templar with impressive mutton chops. "Are you trying to tell me that this boy is all that's left of the apostates?" he asked of Thrask in a disbelieving tone.

"I ran away when they began to use blood magic, ser," the boy said meekly.

"They are not in the caverns, Ser Kerras. I have thoroughly explored..." Thrask began before Karras noticed her and her companions.

"Who is this?" he asked warily.

"I'm the one who is going to get you a medal for putting down this mage rebellion," Hawke said, crossing her arms confidently.

"I'm listening..." Karras said slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"These freaks were using blood magic, but I took care of them. Their leader ran. He was heading for the coast last I saw him," she said, pointing. "Your men are in pursuit."

"We can still catch up if we go around the caverns. That's the faster route," Thrask said excitedly.

"The coast you say?" Karras said with a hum, then he addressed the small group of templars at his heel. "Men, fan out, search the shore. We will retrieve these corpses later." He gave a bow to Hawke and said with a grin. "The knight-commander will hear of the service you did us."

After Karras disappeared in a deafening flurry of templars in plate, Thrask approached her. "Thank you, my friend," he said before leaving with the young boy.

When they were alone, the woman led her small group from the cave. "I didn't think you could do it. Truly you must be able to charm a miser out of his last coin. I did not think any of us would leave those caverns alive."

"If it makes you feel better," Hawke shrugged. "Officially, you were 'killed during escape'."

"I will do my best to seem cold and rotted then," she said with a small chuckle. "Please, accept my staff as a reward. It has the mark of Starkhaven on it... I dare not carry it now. It has served me well. Now we must flee as far as we can before nightfall. Thank you, friend."

 

Hawke made her way back to Kirkwall, feeling spectacular. She carried the second staff, planning to take it to the gallows and sell it to a tranquil for a bit of coin. The gallows was no longer a place she feared to go, so she headed there without delay. As she waited in a line to approach one of the creepy tranquil, the clanking of plate drew her attention. She turned to see that the Knight-Captain had approached her. He offered her a small, awkward crooked smile and said, "I have told the Knight-Commander of your service."

"Oh, more attention. That's just grand," Carver grunted.

Hawke rolled her eyes and moved Cullen gently away from the others so they could talk without interruption. He eyed her warily, but did not object.

"She commends your quick thinking and has agreed to keep the lad Keran around for observation," he continued as he shrugged her hand from his arm.

"I've heard a lot about the knight-commander," Hawke said conversationally. "What's she really like?"

He smiled crookedly again. "She is not an easy taskmaster, but it is not an easy task. I would not have liked her when I was younger. I thought mages deserved a softer touch. But Meredith is never fooled by a sweet face. She always sees the demon behind it." He regarded her as if he were observing the 'demon' behind her sweet face and a flash of something raced across his eyes before he cleared his throat.

She frowned, again curious about how he had become so untrusting since admitting that he had been sympathetic to mages in his younger years. Not that he was that old now. She had likely seen more years than he had. "You sound Ferelden," she pointed out evasively, not wanting to pry too hard as she twisted the Starkhaven staff between her fingertips. "How did you end up here?"

"I was in the Circle tower in Ferelden when Uldred summoned his demons," he said as if the answer were automatic. He was repressing the experience hard. But as he spoke more, his tone became less monotonous and more choked. "I was held in a cage for... I can't even say. Weeks? Months? It was one unending nightmare. I watched... what those mages did. What they became. I would gladly give my life to avoid seeing that again."

Hawke resisted the urge to reach out a comforting hand, balling her fist. Instead of letting him suffer, she gave him a moment to collect himself and rapidly changed the subject. "What's it like being in the Order? Do you feel you're accomplishing anything?"

A sharp chuckle escaped his lips as he stuffed the memories back into whatever hole he had dug for them. "The templars are not a good choice for anyone who requires a strong sense of achievement. It is a losing battle. Everyday, new mages are born in Thedas. Every day, those born a dozen years ago come into their power. The best we can do is contain the threat... and recruit more to fill our own ranks when they're emptied."

She let out her own chuckle. "You have to admit, the templars have brought some of this hatred on themselves."

"This is the popular school of thought, no?" he mused with a shrug and a sigh.

Hawke hadn't noticed Anders hovering so close and listening in. "It's the truth," he mumbled.

Cullen glanced up at the imposing Circle building and sighed again. "It used to be that templars were welcomed wherever they went... for defending people from dark magics. Now the townsfolk are as likely to slam their doors as offer us a bed. The image of the poor, chained apprentice is a powerful one. And one the mages are more than willing to exploit." He paused and looked over Hawke one last time before smiling gently. "But it seems you are busy. I'll not take up more of your time." He turned on his heel and left.

Anders huffed. "Why do you even talk to him?"

Hawke shrugged. "In spite of his views, I think he's a decent person."

"He's a wanker."

Hawke turned a glare on Anders. "He has apparently been through a very painful ordeal that turned him against mages. Perhaps he can be swayed back to our side if we give him a chance."

Anders crossed his arms and glared right back at her. "Does he have a 'sexy tortured look', too?"

Her mouth gaped before she pressed her lips together and resisted the urge to slap him across the face. Apparently this was not one of his better days. She shoved the staff into his arms, not even caring that he didn't catch it before it clattered to the ground and stormed past him, swallowing a wreath of flames that threatened to erupt around her balled fists. How dare he! He had no right to be jealous. Even if she liked Cullen, which she didn't, he had no say in who she spent her time with.

Without even realizing it, Hawke found herself in Hightown, outside Fenris' mansion. She pounded loudy in the door and after a few minutes, he greeted her, sword in hand. "Hawke?" he said in surprise as she pushed inside and his sword dropped to his side. "I thought you were tax collectors. Why are you here?"

She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. "Is that how you greet all the city officials?"

The glow from his marks faded and he braced his sword against the wall beside the door. "I can never be too careful."

"And I thought Carver was paranoid," she mused, picking up one of the knickknacks that he hadn't destroyed yet and tossed it between her hands. "Got any booze? I could use a drink."

He narrowed his eyes, but moved silently past her toward the sitting room. "Is there a particular reason you're here and not at the Hanged Man?"

She followed him to the warm firelit room and flopped into one of the wingbacks with a sigh. "The company is pleasant here, and the drinks are free," she quipped as he tossed her one of the wine bottles that she had given him for Wintersday, already half empty.

She pulled the cork back out and took a long swig as he studied her intently. The caress of his eyes gave her a shudder and she took another deep gulp of the fruity wine. "Wouldn't you prefer the company of a certain abomination?"

She let out a choke of disgust as she passed the bottle back to him and he joined her in sitting. "I don't know why I waste my time. Getting shit faced in a borrowed mansion, with you, is much more fun than having my own words thrown back in my face."

"I can't say I'm not flattered you chose to come here, Hawke," he said with a small half smirk.

They sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Hawke pouted as she overturned the empty bottle and he quietly stood to retrieve another. She dropped the empty one by the chair. She was done with the silence. "I'm leaving for the Deep Roads in a few days you know," she said.

He lifted his eyes from the bottle that he was carefully inserting the corkscrew into, the jade of his irises settling on her in an unreadable expression. "Since I'm only hearing of this now, I assume you won't be needing me to come with you?" he asked, his tone as unreadable as his face.

She pushed herself up in the chair from her slumped position and stood to approach him. "This is the Deep Roads we're talking about, here. Nobody should want to go there voluntarily."

"You do," he said with a smirk, passing the bottle in her direction.

"Sure," she said teasingly. "But not all of us can stumble upon a mansion and call it home. I have my family to think about." She took the bottle from him, their fingers brushing lightly. He hissed slightly and pulled away, flexing his fingers. She watched him turn his body so he was not facing her. The hand she had brushed against momentarily glowed a gentle blue before calming. She set the bottle down on a nearby table and moved to his side. She picked up his hand and could see in his face that he was fighting to not pull away from her touch. She turned his hand over to gaze at the milky strands of Lyrium just beneath his skin. With her opposite hand, she tentatively brushed her fingertips over them. "They hurt?"

He gently pulled away and lowered his gaze that had been locked on hers. "Not in the way you assume... When Danarius had them etched into my body, it was agony. The pain wiped out everything I was. I remember nothing from before. Touching them... reminding me they exist... the pain, it... lingers."

Hawke pulled her own hands away from his. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I didn't mean to..."

"No..." he said, reaching for her as she pulled away. "You have nothing to apologize for." His hand never made contact with her, but the intention had been there. She released some of the tension in her own stance as he sighed. "You came to be free of your worries. I don't wish to give you more." He reached around her for the bottle that she had abandoned, his body so close that the scent of the markings was all she could smell, even over the roaring fire.

She inhaled discretly, not wanting to push too hard. She was always walking on eggshells when it came to Fenris. They had differing opinions on a lot of things, but the physical attraction she felt whenever he was around was intense. They had grown closer as she spent more time in his mansion, bringing him new books and helping him to learn how to read them. He was a fast learner, but whenever she broached the subject, he insisted he still needed her help. In spite of his inital mistrust of her, she believed they were becoming at least friends, if not more. At the very least, he seemed to like having her around. He handed the bottle back to her as he pulled out of her space, taking his scent with him. She smiled sweetly and tipped back the bottle before handing it back to him. "Here's to drinking our problems away."

"Here, here," he said with a small chuckle.

 

Today was the day. Hawke donned all of her best gear and had headed out before the sun came up to ask Merrill if she would join them on the expedition. Hawke wanted another mage at her side and she was still angry with Anders and his comment in the Gallows. Going below ground and fighting Darkspawn was her plan for constructively releasing her anger. If he was there with her, it wouldn't feel as satisfying.

Now, she was standing in the small section in Hightown that belonged to the Merchant's Guild and listening to Bartrand make fancy speeches. "We've chosen one of the hidden entrances. The Deep Roads there will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering..."

Varric snorted softly from beside her and she briefly turned her attention to him when he nudged her and said, "Now there's an interesting image."

Hawke graced him with her own amused grin as Bartrand continued. "It'll take a week for us to get the depth we need, and there are bound to be leftover Darkspawn from the Blight. Big risks, big rewards..."

"Risks? Rewards? What could be better?" Hawke said with a chuckle.

"Exactly!" Bartrand said pointing to her with a wide grin. "Now, before we... wait," his attention moved away from the assembled group of merchants, hirelings and Hawke's people to something to his left. "Who invited the old woman?" he asked with a sneer.

Hawke glanced over and saw her mother hovering by the sidelines with a worried look on her face. Hawke had a feeling she knew what this was all about and she carefully rolled her eyes as her mother spoke softly, her attention on Bartrand. "I'm sorry to interrupt ser dwarf, but I need to speak with my children."

"Mother no," Carver said as she and him approached Leandra. He stopped in front of her glaring. "We talked about how important this is."

"I just want to know one thing," Leandra said, her pleading eyes falling on Hawke. "Are you planning on taking Carver with you?"

She had other options, but if she benched Carver, he would never forgive her. She shrugged and smiled. "I can't leave Carver behind. I need him."

"I'm going. It'll be fine," he agreed vehemently.

"It's not fine!" Leandra insisted in a panic. "You can't both go. What if something were to happen to you?" She turned her gaze back on Hawke, her expression turning mildly angry. "You I understand wanting to do this, but leave your brother here, I beg you!"

Hawke opened her mouth to respond, but Carver interrupted. "I said I'm going. Besides, if we're so bloody afraid of templars, I should go and she should hide!"

Hawke turned around at the sound of Bartrand's voice and saw the extra faces in the courtyard, both of whom had come armed and packed. "Well, you're not going to be able to take everyone, anyhow... you'll need to decide."

Hawke crossed her arms and sighed. She had made her decision already and she didn't want to have to tell Anders and Isabela that she wasn't taking them. There were already enough people that were going to be exposed to the Darkspawn. The fewer the better. "I'm taking Carver and Merrill," she said loudly with a sneer at Anders who had the decency to look sheepish. Isabela actually looked relieved, her stance easing into a more casual one as she cocked her hips.

"Carver," her mother begged, grabbing hold of his arm. "I beg you! Don't go! Don't do this!"

He took her hand from his arm and patted it softly. "Don't worry about me so. I can take care of myself, you'll see."

He let her hand go and before she left, hugging herself, she shot a nasty warning glare at Hawke. Hawke swallowed her reservations over her decision and sighed. Maker save her if anything happened to Carver. "Personal drama over with?" Bartrand said snidely as Hawke rejoined the group. With a short nod, Hawke shouldered her pack as Varric handed it to her with his lips pressed sympathetically together. "Then let's get underway." Hawke whistled Alfie to her side and the dog bounded up, his tongue lolling from his mouth. She scratched his ears and he licked her hand.

"Been a long time coming, eh, Brother?" Varric said to Bartrand as they made their way to the head of the group. Hawke hung back, offering Isabela a shrug and a wink.

"That it has," Bartrand agreed. "The Deep Roads await!" He led them off as if leading a charge into battle.

Hawke followed behind, eager to get away from the city and the growing problem that was her personal life. Anders caught her arm as she passed him and she resisted the urge to pull away from him. "Look, I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I just want..." his eyes shifted over her and then he looked down at his hand, releasing her arm. "Be careful, Hawke."

She said nothing in return, but she felt her stomach clench. In spite of everything, his possession, his delusions, his insistence that he was no good for her even as he clearly fought with himself through every flirtatious conversation, she couldn't help but feel herself getting attached. She needed to get away. She backed away and their eyes met briefly before she forced herself to turn and jog to catch up with the rest of the group. Her breathing was hitched and she swallowed something akin to fear. What she was afraid of, precisely, she couldn't say, but her heart raced and her palms were sweating. The staff he'd given her rode heavily on her back beneath her pack. A few weeks away would do her good.

 

Hawke was popular among the other folks of the expedition. She found herself relaxing as they trekked out of the city and directly to an abandoned mining system that led down into the Deep Roads according to Anders' maps. Her favorite person to talk to was the middle aged dwarf who she had seen hiring on in the Hanged Man before she had met Varric, and his son, Sandal. The boy was more than a bit simple, but he could enchant like no tranquil she had ever met, and he loved doing it. He was a dwarf of few words, but when he spoke, it was usually an enthusiastic shout of "Enchantment!" followed by a small dance and clapping of his hands. Bodhan regaled her with tales of their time with the Hero of Ferelden after she had saved their lives on the road just outside Lothering. He had left her side after the Blight, he and Sandal heading North to the Free Marches to seek their fortune.

After the promised week and then some of picking their way into the depths, the expedition halted abruptly as one of the scouts came running back to them from ahead. "There's been a collapse," he said nervously to Bartrand. "The way forward is blocked."

"What!?" Bartrand raged, advancing on the other dwarf as he nervously backed away, his hands up in placation. "Is there some way around?"

"Not that I've been able to find," he stuttered. "The side passages are too dangerous."

Bartrand paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully before hauling off and punching the man's light's out. "Useless!" he shouted. "What am I paying you blighters for?!" As he looked around, several of the others shrugged and he grumbled, throwing his hands up in agitation. "Set camp!"

Hawke moved to help the dazed dwarf to his feet as the others scurried to follow orders so they weren't next. She narrowed her eyes at Bartrand who was issuing orders left and right while Varric headed off some of the more pitiless tasks behind his back. Once the cookfires were burning and the watches had been set, Varric approached Bartrand who was sharing an short report from another of the scouts. "Problems, Brother?"

Hawke wandered up to listen in as Bartrand rounded on Varric. "Sodding Deep Roads! Who knows how long it will take to clear the path!"

"Shall we not try to find a way around, instead?" Varric asked, maintaining his calm and familiar demeanor. "Seems like the logical choice."

"You think I'm an idiot, Varric?!" Bartrand shouted as he began to pace. Hawke glanced at Varric who refused to look at her. If he had seen the smirk on her face, he might have burst out laughing and soured Bartrand's mood even further. "The scouts say the side passages are too dangerous!"

Hawke crossed her arms and cocked her hips. "See? This is why you bring someone like me along."

"We'll take a look," Varric said, holding off the protest that seemed to want to leak from Bartrand's lips. "If we come running back... screaming, you'll know staying out was the right decision."

"Fine, fine! Find a way around. Just do it quickly!" Bartrand agreed grudgingly.

Hawke wondered what the rush was, raising her brow in question as Varric supplied her with a shrug and Bodhan approached them, his eyes wild. "Er, I hate to add to your burdens, my friends, but I fear I must. I fear my boy, Sandal, wandered off. He's somewhere in those passages, right now! I beg you, keep an eye out for him. He just... doesn't understand danger like he should."

"We'll bring him back in one piece," Hawke assured Bodhan, then she smiled. "Or maybe two. Hard to say, really."

Bodhan gasped and sighed, walking off. "Poor Sandal. I can't believe he's done this!"

"Let's move quickly, then," Varric sighed as well, waving Carver and Merrill over to them.

They moved ahead to one of the side passages and away from the camp. It was relatively well lit and Hawke reserved her mana for the Darkspawn that were likely to show up. They followed the carved out road until they reached a secondary cave in and a tunneled out area to their right. Hawke pressed into the tunnelled area and took note of the change in smell from the dwarven made tunnel versus this one. It smelled moldy and rotten, much like she assumed a Darkspawn hovel might smell like. The creatures themselves surely reeked. The path wound around and down where they met their first resistance on a set of man made wooden stairs. They intruded on a group of hurlocks who ran at them shrieking and hissing as they brandished rusty and jagged swords. Hawke shoved them back with a wave of magic to make way for Carver so he didn't have to fight from the stairs. He rushed in, sword blazing as she cast a spell to enchant his blade with flames. The Darkspawn lit up and in spite of the smell, it was a glorious sight. Every dead Darkspawn felt like vengeance for Bethany.

"You're enjoying this!" Varric accused as Hawke grinned with vigor as she smacked around the ones that Carver had missed with her force magic.

"Maker save the ogre that stands in my way," she growled as she unleased a barrage of fireballs that burned through the Darkspawn she had been playing with like a cat with a mouse.

Merrill looked on in awe as Carver straightened from the battle stance and wiped his face. "I feel like you might not have needed me," she said nervously.

"We always need you, Merrill," Hawke said, patting her on the shoulder. "That was just a long time coming. Next time, I'll save some for you."

"Will there be a next time? Not that I hope there is a next time, but I want to feel useful," Merrill babbled, her voice echoing around the tunnel as they continued forward. Hawke chuckled and shook her head.

After another ten minutes of fighting through tunnels and marking a clear path, they came upon possibly the greatest sight Hawke had ever witnessed. At the bottom of a set of stairs carved into the ground, stood Sandal, scratching his ass and looking out over the abyss before him. He was surrounded by a great number of dead Darkspawn and Varric chuckled. "Well, I'll be a nug's uncle. Isn't that Bodhan's boy?"

Hawke made her way down the stairs, picking her footing through the corpses and Sandal turned his bright blue eyes on her and grinned. "Hello!" he said cheerily.

His front was covered in blood and ichor and other things that Hawke did not want to identify, but the boy seemed unharmed. She knelt in front of him and cocked her head, plucking a large bit of Darkspawn organ form his shoulder as Carver laughed out loud. "It is! The great warrior stands victorious."

"I'd really like to know how you managed to kill all of them," Hawke said with her own chuckle.

Sandal held out a rock to her and dropped it into her open palm. It was etched with lyrium and glowing a light blue color. "Boom!" he said, still grinning.

Then Hawke turned her attention to the menacing sight to her right that was nearly blocking the path. A massive ogre had been frozen solid, mid charge, it's arms entended and a snarling look on it's face. "And how did you do that?!"

Sandal cocked his head and smirked. "Not enchantment," he said as if that explained everything. With a gentle nudge from her, he started back toward the camp which wasn't very far behind them and no off shoot path could get him lost again.

"Smart boy," Varric mumbled as he wandered off. Then Varric nudged Hawke's elbow and said, "Come on. We still need to find a way past that collapse."

They were running into fewer and fewer Darkspawn as they headed forward. It was making Hawke's nose twitch, right along with the ominous smell of brimstone. She could not discern whether it was from the rivers of lava lighting the Deep Roads, or if her prediction that their entrance into the Deep Roads would have a dragon sitting in it was going to turn out accurate. As they rounded a corner into a paved section of the Deep Roads, the narrow passage led to a wide open cavern that looked like it might be a way back on track. A loud rumbling made Hawke cringe. "Who knew I was a psychic as well as good looking?" she said wistfully. "I told you there was going to be a dragon sitting in our path."

Varric chuckled as he readied Bianca. "Let's just remember that the only healer here is you, Hawke and Blondie isn't here to use his ice magic."

She grunted and quickened her pace. "Don't talk about him right now."

She ran into the open cavern and quick reconaissance put the dragon to their left. Hawke was casting before it even got to it's feet after noticing her. The tempest struck the dragon in several places, angering it, but keeping it on the ground. Merrill ran up beside her and Hawke felt her Dalish magic slither over the area as she pulled roots out of the earth and curled them around the dragon's feet. When they were secure, Carver ran in and Hawke cast a weak frost spell on his blade with the help of the enchantments on the gloves Fenris had given her. A puff of cold air began to stream from the greatsword giving it a bit of extra kick to slice through the dragon's tough hide.Varric shot off a couple of bolts into the dragon's throat when it opened it's mouth to draw in a breath so it could release it's fire on them. The dragon sputtered at the comparitively splinter sized bolts in it's throat and Carver swiped at it's neck when it's head lowered. His sword sliced open it's neck and blood began to spray. Hawke reached out with a spirit arm and grabbed hold of one of it's horns, slamming it's head down on the ground to daze it. Lifting her hand, she slammed it down again and then Merrill's roots wrapped around it's already bloody neck. Carver moved to finish off the dragon and something latched onto Hawke's calf. Her leg buckled and she turned as she fell, crying out.

A dragonling had appeared out of nowhere. She twisted around as best she could in it's grasp and felt her flesh rip open as it's teeth dug deeper. With a grunt, she released the blade from her staff and jabbed it into the beast's chest. It released her leg and she saw the rest of it's siblings scurrying up from their holes. She dragged herself to her feet and conserved her mana for casting rather than healing. Each step she took as she twirled and cast was agony burning up her leg. It felt like there were hundreds of the skittering baby dragons. Each time they got close, she was forced to lash out with the blade from her staff and it was slowly making her less angry with Anders. The staff was extremely handy. "Stupid sexy mage," she grumbled to herself.

When the last of the dragonlings fell with a pathetic squeak as Merrill strangled it to death with her magic, Hawke stumbled and Carver caught her before she dropped. "That looks bad, Marian."

Her leg did in fact look pretty gruesome. "That bastard took a right chunk out of me, didn't it? Varric, do you have any of those healing draughts?"

"Oh, I do!" Merrill said excitedly, fishing in the small sack she was carrying over one shoulder. "I made up a ton of elfroot potions before we left. That was before I knew I was coming too. I was going to give them to you, but..."

"Merrill..." Carver scolded with an admiring chuckle.

"Oh, right, sorry," she pulled out a small glass vial filled with the red liquid.

Hawke took it gratefully and downed the earthy tasting brew and braced herself for the healing process. "I would heal myself," she said through gritted teeth, "but after all of those dragons, I'm pretty low on mana." The potion worked it's way down her leg and the sensation of hundreds of bugs crawling under her skin made her cringe as it helped to knit the flesh back together. "Maker, I hate those potions."

"Bet you wish you had brought Blondie, now," Varric teased, patting her arm.

"Shut up, Varric," Hawke grumbled.

Varric chuckled and surveyed the carnage around them. "Ah, here we go," he mused pointing up a short staircase up on the far wall. "This goes right where we want it to. Let's go back and tell Bartrand. He'll be so pleased."

Hawke tested her weight on the leg as the creeping sensation began to abate. Satisfied that she wouldn't be limping, she patted Carver thankfully and moved away from him. They made their way back the way they'd come past the frozen ogre and through the tunnel.

When they entered the camp, Hawke was pleased to see Sandal had made it back and Bodhan was fussing over him, cleaning the Darkspawn from his clothes. Bartrand was arguing with some of the hirelings about how they would go about clearing the cave in and Varric interrupted loudly. "Bartrand! We found a way around your damned cave in!"

Bartrand turned to him and glared for a moment, taking in Hawke's bloody leg. "It's about time! Let's move out!"

The hirelings quickly packed up the camp and Hawke and her group led them all through to where they had killed the dragons. When they passed through the cavern and up the stairs to the other side, the Deep Roads opened up into what looked to be a massive set of Dwarven ruins. There were buildings carved into the faces of the walls ahead and a long narrow path led through the area like a main street. The entire area was lit up with veins of lyrium that snaked through the walls. Bartrand motioned that they should set up camp and Hawke was relieved as Varric whistled and took the words right out of her mouth. "Holy shit!"

"Is this what you were expecting?" she asked softly, feeling the need to whisper as she leaned on her staff and looked out over the city below. It looked relatively undisturbed by time and after a brief rest to recharge her reserves, she was eager to get a closer look.

"I thought..." Bartrand said, barely above a whisper. "An abandoned thaig, something old, but... what is this?"

"How did you even know it was here?" Hawke asked.

"Old scavenger tales," he said with a shrug. "After the third Blight. A week below the surface, they said. But nobody believed them..."

"Looks like they were right," Varric said, still impressed as he craned his neck to look above at the ceilings so high that they would be invisible without the glowing lyrium. The hum of the stone was all around them and Hawke could feel it vibrating over her skin. It was just shy of unpleasant. She shuddered.

"Make camp here," Bartrand reiterated loudly. "We need to look around."

They spread out along the main street, setting up tents and bedrolls along the narrow path. Hawke kept a constant eye on Alfie who seemed perfectly content. She had left him behind when they scouted ahead, but as deep as they were and surrounded by ruins, she felt more comfortable with him beside her to let her know if they were going to be ambushed. She strolled slowly through the buildings and found a comfortable spot to bed down for a few hours and grab a bite to eat. She laid out her bedroll as the others congregated around her, doing the same. She sat on the thin blanket and propped her leg up in front of her. She was going to need new boots when this was over. She finished what the elfroot potion had started, running her palm over the throbbing muscles in her calf.

"Healing is so fascinating," Merrill said abruptly as she dropped to her knees beside Hawke and startled her. "I've never been very good at it myself."

Hawke offered her a small smile after recovering from the scare. "I can only heal as far as my mana will take me. I've never seen anyone who could heal as well as Anders can. I felt him call on a spirit when he closed me up on the Wounded Coast. I thought I was dead for sure."

"Oh, he's a spirit healer! That is even more fascinating. And rare, even among the Dalish," she said breathily. "Too bad he's always so grumpy. I would love to ask him a few questions."

Hawke shrugged and tried to laugh off her own grumpy attitude as Merrill talked about Anders. She was beyond confused about where she stood with him and she needed time to figure things out. He just had to pull her aside as they were leaving and give her the lost puppy look. "Yes, well mood swings tend to happen when you've got two different voices inside your head."

Merrill continued to blabber and Hawke laid back on her bedroll, Alfie moving to squish himself between her and the stone wall beside her. The dog laid his head on her stomach and Hawke tried her best to listen to what Merrill had to say, but found herself drifting off as Alfie snored beside her, his warmth making it difficult to stay awake after the long day she'd had.

 

She got a few good hours of sleep before Varric gently nudged her. "Bartrand asked if we would scout ahead. The others are a little wary."

Hawke sighed and sat up. "Will there be breakfast?"

Varric snorted. "Of course, Hawke. Do you think I'd neglect to feed you?" He tossed her a sack of jerky and Alfie huffed and tried to bury his nose in the crux of her arm where she had caught it.

"Alfie seems to think I neglect to feed him," she chuckled, muscling the giant dog off her lap so she could stand before feeding him a piece of the jerky.

With a chuckle, Varric began to wander toward the end of the street where Bodhan had set up his things. Sandal was looking rather excited as he danced around in place, the Lyrium in the walls the subject of his glee as he shouted and pointed. "Enchantment!"

Hawke stuffed a couple of pieces of jerky in her mouth before sealing the pouch back up and stuffing it in her hip bag. Then she gathered her bedroll and stuffed the last few bits of her belongings in it before folloing after Varric. Merrill and Carver were already waiting, quietly talking together near the end of the street and looking rather cozy. Her brother was actually smiling. Wonder of wonders. Hawke passed Bodhan and the dwarf grabbed her arm to stop her. "You found him! I can't believe it, you found him!"

"Hello," Sandal said cheerily as Hawke smiled at him.

Bodhan shook his head in disbelief. "I owe you a great debt. I will repay it somehow... I swear my life on it!"

Hawke lifted a single brow, "Repay me?"

"Yes," Bodhan insisted. "I don't yet know how, but I will figure out something, messere."

Hawke shook his hand as he insisted and moved away to join her group. "Ready?" Varric asked with only half a grin. She nodded and he started down the carved stairs where the buildings ended. The stairway was a narrow fit and the walked two by two with Merrill and Carver bringing up the rear. Varric paused at the landing before the last set of stairs and hummed thoughtfully. "Whatever's through there, it seems still intact. Think we'll find anything?"

"Bartrand is far more enthralled with this place than you are," she pointed out.

"Unlike him, I wasn't born in Orzammar. I wouldn't even be down here if there wasn't profit in it," Varric grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and caressing his hand over Bianca. "This entire place gives me the chills. Let's hope it's worth it."

She snorted and shrugged. "Chances are we won't find anything but even more Darkspawn. And rubble. Maybe bones?"

He harrumphed and rolled his shoulders. "I suppose we'll need to go down there to find out?"

She patted his shoulder and moved ahead to go first. The atmosphere took on an eerie feel as she noticed the thinning of the veil. It no longer smelled like Darkspawn, unless she was simply becoming accustomed to the smell.There was a sudden thinning of the air and ahead, several shades shimmered into existance. She stopped in her ttracks and opened her mouth to warn the others, but Carver had already seen and rushed ahead to swing his sword in a massive arc that sliced through three of them. The others scattered and Hawke heard a crackling like breaking rock to her left and behind. She turned in the direction of the grating noise and saw a massive golem snapping it's pertified limbs into use. It immediately spotted her as her other companions were caught up fighting the shades further ahead. It lumbered for her and she cast a quick lightning bolt to shock it so she could scurry out of the way of its swinging fist. She ducked low and rolled around it so she was at it's back. Alfie distracted it by barking angrily at it's feet. He bounded back and forth as the golem tried to smash it's fists on the ground to crush the annoyance. Hawke shocked it again and then punched down with a fist of the Maker, knocking it off it's feet and a few pieces of rock skittered away as she broke them loose. With it on the ground, she summoned a crushing prison followed by a blaze of fire from the tip of her staff that made the golem wail with a gravely tone. As more of it began to melt away with the heat of her spell, Merrill came through to quick freeze it. Then Hawke smashed the brittle rock with a stone fist. "Well, that was exciting!" Merrill said as she caught her breath. Around the area, Hawke could feel the chills that Varric was getting from the place. The lighting was dim and the singing Lyrium was a strange red color as it snaked through the walls along with the regular blue. The song felt different. Menacing.

They passed by the dead shades and through a doorway. Down a long, brightly lit hallway that was starting to look more like Deep Roads again, There was another cavern that seemed dedicated to one purpose. Displayed rather poingnantly atop a narrow altar was an idol. Varric and her approached it cautiously and Hawke could feel the hum of the red Lyrium that was fused throughout the piece. It was an ugly thing. The figure molded in gold looked in agony, it's body thin and frail as the lyrium swirled around it. It glittered with unknown magic and Hawke was loathe to touch it. "You see what I'm seeing?" Varric said, all of his concern wiped away as he chuckled.

"Is that... lyrium?" she wondered aloud in case she might be seeing things. Everything about this idol felt wrong.

"Doesn't look like any kind of Lyrium I've ever seen," Varric said as he turned at a sound behind them. Down the stairs by the door, Bartrand had followed them. "Look at this, Bartrand! An idol made out of pure Lrium, I think. Could be worth a fortune."

Bartrand whistled, but did not approach them as his eyes scanned the entire area with a glimmer of greed. "You could be right. Excellent find."

Hawke reached out to the idol, her hand hovering over it for a moment as it reacted to her magic, reaching to warm her hand. She gritted her teeth and picked it up. "Not bad," Varric said as she turned toward Bartrand with nothing but the thought of getting the damned thing out of her grasp. "We'll take a look around, see if there's anything further in."

Varric took it quickly from her and she sighed in relief as he tossed it to Bartrand. "You do that," Bartrand said as he admired the idol and turned from them. A soft rumbling drew Hawke's attention away from Varric as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"The door!" she cried, pushing past him to race back down the stairs to where the door that led back to the others was closing behind Bartrand.

It slammed shut in her face and she barrelled into it, attempting to get it back open, using her magic to boost her strength. It wouldn't budge. "Bartrand!" Varric shouted through the heavy stone. "It's shut behind you!"

A soft chuckling boiled Hawke's blood from the other side of the door before Bartrand's heavily muted voice said, "You always did notice everything, Varric."

She exchanged a glance with Varric whose face fell. "Are you joking? You're going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?"

"It's not just the idol," Bartrand said victoriously. "The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune, and I'm not splitting that three ways. Sorry, Brother!"

"Bartrand!" Varric shouted, kicking the door. He called out again before realizing he was wasting his breath. "Oh, I swear I will find that son of a bitch... sorry Mother... and I will kill him!" He punctuated that with a punch to the door and a sigh. "Let's hope there's a way out of here."

Meanwhile, Hawke's heart was in overdrive and she felt on the verge of panic. The thaig felt completely wrong, the magic and the very stone under her feet felt corrupted. She gathered herself with a deep breath and looked at her companions, all in their own state of surprise. He needed to be strong, to carry them home. She slipped into her hardhearted outer shell, shoving her fear deep inside where it belonged. She needed a level head if she was going to get them through this intact. Deep down, she prayed that Varric was right and there was a way out of this place other than the way back.

They climbed the stairs back to the altar where the idol had rested and Hawke could almost feel the empty stone mocking her as she passed. On the other side of the door at the back of the room, the narrow tunnels continued, becoming less geometric and more haphazard. The taint on the walls was thin to the point of almost nonexistant, making Hawke both hopeful and nervous at the same time. Darkspawn did not frequesnt this area of the Deep Roads, but the true question was, why? Could they simply not get in because there was no exit, or was there something here that drove them away? Neither was a pleasant answer to her question. Again she wished she had brought Anders with her. He could have told her if there were Darkspawn nearby, and the gentle hum of his magic mingling with hers would have been a welcome feeling. Instead, she had Merrill's sticky entropic magic and Carver's angry sneer for company. Varric was blatantly hiding behind his own mask.

 

After a few days travel through the thaig, Hawke was getting suspicious of the lack of activity. Not that she was an expert on the Deep Roads, but even in the early days of the expedition, they had encountered at least the occassional spider. Here it was as quiet as the dead, only their own footsteps to interrupt the boundless silence. Alfie was constantly on edge, and Hawke was conserving as much mana as she could as she dimly lit their path, alternating with Merrill so they could make out the paths. Her sense of direction was muddied without the sun or any discernable landmarks that she was familiar with in the deep. At every fork in the road, they would blindly pick the path that looked the most promising.

Finally, they came to an area that inside a normal building, Hawke would call a mezannine. There was a set of natural carved stairs to both their left and right that led to the bottom of the room split by a small landing in the middle. Hawke paused and took in a breath as the hum of magic seeped over her skin. Before she could warn them, the shades had manifested nearly on top of them, blocking the stairs on both sides. She pulled her brother back as one of the things swiped at him with it's razor claws. It nicked him through his armor and he gritted his teeth as she quickly closed the wounds with a spell before they were overrun. He joined Merrill and Varric as they were fighting off the shades, and Hawke called on her magic, summoning small bolts of spirit energy through her staff so she could hurl them at the enemies.

She and Varric cleared one of the saircases and they moved further into the room as Merrill and Carver moved fluidly down the opposite side. At the bottom of the mezannine, a pile of rocks began to roll and move of their own accord and Hawke paused to stare in awe as the collection of stones heaped together around a shimmering yellow spirit spine and ribcage. The best Hawke could do to identify the thing was 'wraith' before she aimed her fireball for the glowing one eyed skull. She noticed more rocks skittering together as if drawn into a well and another of the beings formed around another glowing ribcage.

She had an idea and quickly enacted it with a warning to Merrill to stand back. She flicked her fingers in a pattern that would dispel all of the magic in a few foot radius and aimed it at the wraith that seemed to be in the middle of them all. When she fired off the spell, she sighed in relief as they all fell to the ground, the rocks piling up and rolling off to settle in a miniature landslide. "Bloody flames, what were those things!?" Varric grunted. Hawke looked at him in surprise as he finally spoke the first genuinely inflected words he had in days.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Hawke sighed. "Let's hope we don't run into any more of them."

Varric chuckled. "You know we will now that you've said that, right?"

Hawke shrugged and smirked before she twirled her staff and hitched it to her back again. The mezannine emptied into another long hallway that was indeed full of both the wraith-like creatures and more shades. "The veil is really thin here," Merrill commented as they came upon another door. Hawke pushed it open and they were set upon again.

After killing half a dozen of the creatures, a booming voice echoed through the high ceilings of the room. "Enough!" The creatures ceased attacking and Hawke straightened from her fighting stance to look around. Near the exit, another of the creatures was forming from the rocks scattered around the floor beneath it. Hawke approached the source of the voice. It looked like another of the creatures, but it felt like something else. She crossed her arms as the thing spoke again. "You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

Merrill approached Hawke on her right and cocked her head to study the creature. Hawke's eyes flicked up and down it as well, but she was not fooled by the disguise. Though she did wonder what the demon might want from them. "I'd say being attacked on sight gives us plenty of need!" she snarked, her hips cocking in agitation.

"They will not assault you further," the demon assured her. "Not without my permission."

"What are these things?" Varric wondered again under his breath. "They seem like rock wraiths, but..."

"They hunger..." the demon purred. "The profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

Hawke glanced around at the spiked veins of red lyruim as it snaked around the support pillars and through the walls. "They eat the lyrium? Sounds like a healthy diet."

"I am not as they are," the demon said as if she wasn't aware. "I am... a visitor."

"You're a demon, feeding on their hunger... I can sense it," Hawke said with a dismissive wave of her hand. If it was going to make her an offer, she wanted to get it over with. The theatrics were unnecessary.

"I would not see my feast end," it said pointedly. "I sense your desire. You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. You can use it... if you're careful," Merrill said calmly.

"Could be a way out of here," Carver agreed slowly. "I don't know..."

Hawke weighed her options. They needed to leave and this was their first real help. They couldn't shamble around in the dark forever. Their supplies were running low and the risk of exposure to the taint was constantly on her mind. "What are our options?" Varric asked as if reading her mind.

She sighed heavily, thinking of her brother. He was under her care. "What have we got to lose?"

"Very wise," the demon said in a tone that told Hawke it would be smiling if it had lips on it's rock face. "There is a crypt not far from here, guarded by a creature that had confounded me for too long. Slay it... and freedom is yours."

The demon dissolved back into a pile of rocks and Hawke stepped over the shifting stones to continue forward. She felt wrong making a deal with a demon, but she needed to protect her brother. She had already let Bethany down, she couldn't let Carver down as well. They continued forward, the path blissfully clear of threats as the demon had promised. One final tunnel opened up into a gigantic room large enough for a dragon to sit in comfortably. Hawke gaped at the high ceilings and thick pillars supporting everything. "What is this place?"

"This is the vault," Varric explained. "The dwarves would have brought their..." His explanation was cut short as the thumping of large rocks began to sound all around them. They spun to where the sounds began to collide and out of thin air, another or the wraiths formed from boulders the size of her torso. It stood as tall a the room and looked down on them menacingly. "Oh, that can't be good," Varric said as he craned his neck to look up at it.

Hawke could feel it pulling on the ambient mana in the air and she took her staff in hand. Testing it's resiliance, she started with a dispel. The thing barely flinched, but it collapsed into a heap before quickly reassembling behind them. Carver spun and swung at it with his greatsword, the metal clanging loudly on the rock. The wraith swung it's arms like clubs, trying to smash them into the ground. Hawke threw all she could think of to counter it's magic. It seemed to slow, but she also noticed it's structure begin to change to red as the sickly looking lyrium around the room dimmed. It collapsed again and reformed in it's original spot in the middle of the room. A few smaller wraiths began to form and Hawke quickly dispelled them as the giant one balled up into a floating chunk of building magic. "Take cover!" she shouted, dodging behind one of the pillars and out of the line of fire, hoping the pillar was enough to protect her.

The building magic came to a head and exploded outward in burning energy. The whole room lit up like the sun and Hawke closed her eyes against the blinding red heat of the magic as she huddled behind the pillar with her arms tucked in close. As soon as the wave receded, she spun out from behind the pillar and began throwing magic at the collapsed heap. It had expended alot of it's energy in that single attack and could not quite reform itself. Hawke could feel it drawing from the lyrium again and redoubled her own efforts while Carver took advantage of the exposed skeleton.

Hawke began to sweat as the wraith drew in enough energy to get back on its feet. She was slammed from behind as one of the smaller wraiths joined the fray unexpectedly. She fell to her knees as Carver ran to take it out. "Move!" he shouted, grabbing her collar and dragging her behind the nearest pillar just as the wraith unleashed it's blast of energy again. She pulled her feet in, tucking her knees against her chest to get out of the line of fire. Carver hissed as his bicep got caught in the blast, charring his skin before he pulled it behind the pillar. "Dammit!" he grunted. As the wraith's attack dwindled again, she moved to place a healing hand on his arm, but he shrugged her off. "Save it for the fight." Then he rushed around the pillar to begin slashing at the red skeleton again.

Hawke stifled the healing magic and channeled her lightning again as Merrill quickly dispeled the small wraiths to make room for Hawke. The tempest struck all around the pile of rocks, leaving snaking tendrils of electricity around the boulders. A loud gutteral sound came from the wraith as it reformed. It singled out Hawke, swinging it's electrified arm club at her. She ducked the swing and followed with a fireball down it's gullet. Her final attack was a massive ball of spirit energy that she formed between both hands and threw into the center of it's ribcage. The creature flew apart in all directions, the force of her magic colliding with it's own reacting explosively. They all moved out of the way of the flying debris and Hawke felt the air clear as the ancient creature perished. Varric looked over at her in surprise and she smirked and shrugged. _All in a days work_.

As they came together in the center of the room, and Hawke used a small bit of mana to clear up the burn on Carver's shoulder, Varric huffed. "The rock wraiths are supposed to be dwarven legends. They're not even supposed to be real!"

"Looked pretty real to me," Hawke countered with a grin as Carver flinched at her touch.

Varric moved off and stopped short at a small dip in the wall of the room. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Look at what it was guarding!"

As Hawke moved to get a glimpse of what had made Varric's eyes light up, she also stopped short. In the alcove was shimmering piles of gold innermingling with several small chests. Before she could force her mouth to comment, a flash drew their attention behind them. The demon had reappeared. "That is not yours. The key you require is in the chest. Leave all else, for it is mine."

Hawke crossed her arms. What would a bloody hermit of a demon in the Deep Roads need with boundless treasure? Varric came to the same conclusion as he drew her ear. "Psst. Not to point out the obvious, but can you imagine what this stuff would be worth on the surface?" he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"You will not!" the demon threatened as it swiped it's arm in anger. "It is mine! All of it! Take only the key, or I shall destroy you."

Hawke cocked her head and smirked, looking over at Varric. "You mind?"

Varric was already reaching for Bianca as he said, "Way ahead of you." With a single click from the trigger, the bolt was loosed and buried itself directly in the shimmering spine of the demon. It fell and the rocks that made up its body scattered. "Bianca says, 'the treasure is ours'." As backlash, several shades attacked them, but they were nothing compared to the battle they had just won. When the last one fell, Hawke moved back to the alcove and knelt in front of the closest chest. Opening it, she sifted through the items to find an old rusty key. "You found the key!" Varric said with relief. "Let's collect the best pieces we can carry out of here and then go..."

Hawke agreed vehemently. She found a few staves that she lashed behind her beside her own, as well as a few jewel encrusted daggers and some trinkets and amulets. She filled her pack with as much of the loose coins as she could lift and then stood to settle into the new weight. She was carrying at least several hundred sovereigns. The others were similarly weighed down, but they all seemed in good spirits. She palmed the key and moved to the locked door that should lead them out.

After a few minutes past the door, Varric stopped them at a well lit intersection and grunted. "I'd say this is our way back." He pointed down the long corridor ahead.

"How long to get back?" she asked.

"If we're unlucky, maybe a week?" he said with a shrug.

"And if we're lucky?" she asked with a smirk as he began to walk again.

"We stumble over Bartrand's corpse on the way," he grumbled.

She laughed out loud, her good mood at finally being near freedom echoing in the hollow tunnel.

 

"This part of the Deep Roads looks familiar," she said thoughtfully as they came upon an intersection five days later. She was walking hunched, her feet dragging along behind her. Alfie whimpered at her side, reminding her that not only was she hungry, but the others were as well.

"We're back where we started," Varric sighed in relief. "And in only five days. Not bad, eh?"

"Think we could... take a break?" Carver gasped behind her. "I feel... wrong."

"I think all our stomachs are a bit tender right now," she sighed in agreement.

Varric chuckled and shrugged. "I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found."

A thud had her spinning around as Merrill gasped. Carver was on his knees. "No, its..."

"Carver!" Hawke shouted, running to his side and abandoning her pack. She helped him sit up after he slumped to his side. She cursed herself as she noticed the soft gray veins as the snaked up from his collar. His complexion was pale and he shuddered.

"It's the Blight, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes turning to her and pleading for reassurance. "Just like that Templar, Wesley," he choked. Hawke took a hold of his shoulders and gripped tightly, swallowing her own fear. "I'll be just as dead. Just as gone."

"That's just like you," she scolded, trying to joke around the knot in her stomach. "keeping this to yourself."

"I thought it was nothing," he winced. "Hoped, anyway... Idiot!" He looked away from her as he accepted his fate. She could barely breathe. With Bethany, she had an outlet. The ogre. Here, she was alone and her brother was dying and she had nowhere to unleash her anger. "I'm not going to make it. Not to the surface, not anywhere. It's getting worse." He admitted.

She was still gripping his shoulders as he turned terrified eyes on her. Varric grunted in frustration. "We're in the middle of nowhere. We can't help him."

Hawke hung her head in defeat. Never had she felt so lost. This was her fault. She had insisted he come with her. He was her responsibility. Her little brother, and she failed him. He reached up, with cold hands and cupped her face. "You'll do it, won't you, Sis?"

"You always did ask for the world, Carver," she said with a choking bark of laughter that almost turned into a sob.

"And you always gave it," he told her, his thumb drawing her gaze back to his face as he rubbed it across her cheek. Was she crying? _Shit_. "It's just you now. Take care of Mother," he begged as he passed her a nasty looking dagger. She realized as she took it that he had gotten it from her own belt.

She pulled him against her, cupping the back of his head with her free hand and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry, Carver." He hugged her tightly until the dagger slipped through his tunic and into his heart. His body siezed briefly before his arms went limp. She pulled him closer, abandoning the knife on the ground beside her to cradle her brother in her lap. She kissed his head and rocked back and forth, slowly swallowing any more tears. She could not break down now. They still weren't safe. They still weren't free. Just as she had when she lost Bethany, she pulled on her uncaring mask and reached up with a hand to dry her tears. Carver's warm blood smeared on her cheek and she realized that she needed to clean it off. The Blight was contagious. If it got in a cut in her skin or in her mouth, her mother might well lose all of her children.

She gently moved Carver's body from her lap and set his head on the ground. Varric seemed to be following her thought process because he handed her a handkerchief. She wiped Carver's blood from her cheek and then carefully wiped her bloodied hands. Merrill was sobbing softly a short distance away, but she had the presence of mind to conjure a few shards of ice through her tears that she melted into a water skin and moved over to Hawke to dump on her hands. It helped to remove the rest of the blood and Hawke pressed her lips together in what felt like nothing close to a smile even though the intention was there.

Varric carefully stripped Carver's pack and his rations from his body and silently began to divvy up the spoils Merrill used Carver's blanket from his pack to cover his body and once they moved everything out of the area, Hawke knelt and touched her hand to Carver's still chest and ignited the cloth. It burned hot with her rage and helplessness, cremating her brother so she had something to bring home to her mother. So this was what failure felt like. She had not felt responsible for Bethany when she died. The blame could be laid at the feet of the Darkspawn. He may have hated her for the rest of their lives, but she could have left Carver in Kirkwall. He would have still been alive. This was her fault.

 

She didn't say a word for the rest of the journey, quietly shouldering the burden of Carver's sword and whatever Varric had split from his pack into hers as she had watched with steely resolve as Carver disintegrated into ash. They took three more days to get back to Kirkwall, but as soon as they were out of the Deep Roads, Merrill had managed to find them some edible berries and Varric had put Bianca to work nabbing a few rabbits.

Winter had dissolved into spring in the couple of weeks they had been underground. The snow had all melted and the air was warm on her skin as they crossed back into Kirkwall. They were just hitting the stairs to Lowtown when Varric finally spoke. "Home, sweet home. Finally." With a sigh he turned to her. "I wonder if Bartrand came back to the city. You think I'd be that lucky?"

Hawke shrugged and took a deep breath before clearing her throat and saying, "Luck hasn't exactly been our strong point so far."

"This is true," he agreed. "I'm... sorry about what happened to your brother. I should have seen Bartrand's betrayal coming." He pounded a fist into his opposite palm. "I'll find that maggot if it's the last thing I do." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I imagine you'll be heading home to... tell the family?"

Hawke hung her head as she rubbed fingers over the small pouch that she had gathered Carver's ashes into as her stomach knotted in dread. "I don't have much choice."

Varric seemed to debate whether his next words were wise before he said them. "You'll be a wealthy woman, Hawke. It wasn't all for nothing."

With a pat to her elbow, he waved his hand for Merrill to follow him and they started down the stairs. Hawke glanced around the familiar sight of the Kirkwallers milling about the market and breathed in the mostly clean city air. After weeks of taint, it was the best smell in the world. She swallowed her pain and settled her mask over herself again. She had to be strong. Mother needed her to be. She was the only one left. She made her way through the market, past the Hanged Man and on to Gamlen's hovel. She forced her legs up the stairs, the burden of telling them about Carver weighing her down more than the riches on her back. She took in a breath, her mind swirling with what she might say and pushed open the door. It creaked and so did the floor as she stepped in. Alfie came in around her, solemnly making his way to the fire to sit in front of it. She dropped her pack to the ground with a loud thump and from the sitting room, her mother rushed out. When she spotted her, her face lit up ad Hawke's heart broke beneath her armor plated chest. "Oh, my baby! You made it home!" Before rushing to her for a hug, Leandra seemed to realize that Hawke was alone. "Carver isn't with you?" she asked curiously.

Hawke hung her head, her mask almost slipping before she swallowed her pain again and Gamlen joined them. "No," she choked.

"Is he... coming back?" Leandra asked, her hands wringing.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Hawke said, barely above a whisper.

Leandra dropped to her knees and began to sob. Hawke moved to kneel comfortingly at her side and rub her back as Gamlen knelt as well, awkwardly unsure of how to react to his crying sister. Leandra allowed Hawke to comfort her, falling into her embrace. As much as Hawke wanted to wallow in her own self recrimination, Leandra had yet to blame her. She stood as her mother's rock, absorbing every tear and every wail of grief.

When finally the shuddering ceased and the soft sniffling eased, Hawke shifted. Leandra lifted her head and set her gaze on Hawke. Hawke averted her own eyes, knowing that the blame was coming. She reached into her pouch and took the ashes, pressing them into her mother's hands.

"You look exhausted," Leandra said softly, studying her face and reaching up to turn her head to her.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Almost three weeks trapped and lost in the Deep Roads will do that to a person."

"Trapped?" Leandra gasped. "What happened down there?"

Hawke reached up and took her mother's hand from her face and squeezed it gently, offering an equally soft smile that never quite reached full fruition. "I'm sorry, Mother, but I just can't. Not yet."

Leandra opened and closed her mouth to speak, but decided against it, hugging Carver's ashes to her chest. "I understand, dear. I'll give you some space. Thank you... for bringing him home."

 


	8. Estate and Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke puts her well earned coin to good use.

After a long, scalding bath and an even longer fitful sleep, Hawke dragged herself out of bed and got dressed. She couldn't allow what happened to interfere in the rest of her life. She sifted through her pack and counted the coin. She had never seen this much gold in one place before, let alone it being hers. She had made back her investment twentyfold, and that was not even counting the staves and fancy daggers she could sell. She hid the coin away where Gamlen couldn't find it and set Alfie on guard duty. Then she took the sellable items and made her way to Hightown. For some reason, she didn't feel like being alone, and she felt herself inexplicably drawn to Fenris' dilapidated mansion.

She knocked tentatively on the door and waited briefly before he answered it much like he had the last time, sword drawn and threatening scowl in place. "Hawke," he said lowering his sword when he recognized her. "You're back." His eyes slipped up and down her person. She had dressed down, not feeling like doing much else besides the light pants and sloppy tunic that she had thrown on. With the beautiful weather, she hadn't needed to do much else. Her tunic was falling off her shoulder as it was wont to do and she hung her head, not meeting his gaze. "Is something wrong?" he asked curiously, stepping aside and allowing her entry.

"We just got back yesterday... I had a few pieces I wanted to try and sell here in the Hightown market, but I really can't be alone right now," she explained, shrugging her exposed shoulder.

"Did something happen?" he asked again, this time his eyes boring into her.

She took a deep breath. "It's Carver. He... Bartrand betrayed us and stranded us in the Deep Roads. Somewhere along the way, Carver got sick." Hawke took the hand that had pushed the dagger through Carver and rubbed it with the other. "The Blight... I had to..."

Hawke couldn't finish her thought. Fenris' voice hummed out in a deep rumble. "He seemed a fine young man. I am sorry for his loss."

Hawke chuckled, shaking out her hands and swallowing her sadness yet again. "I didn't come here to make this awkward."

"Would you like a drink?" Fenris offered, knowing she came there to drink whenever she didn't feel like socializing.

She gave it a moment's thought and sighed. "No. I should just get rid of this junk and then head to the Keep. I have an estate to buy back."

Fenris cocked his head. "If you're certain, I would gladly go with you if you wish for the company. It's been... lonely without you coming by to give me lessons."

"I'll even buy you a new book," she promised with a smile.

She turned back toward the door and he caught her hand to give it a light, fleeting squeeze. "Again. I am sorry."

She waved off his sentiment, her heart clenching every time she thought about Carver. A relaxing day out with Fenris would do her some good and maybe take her mind off her grief. With Bethany it had all been a whirlwind. She hadn't had the time to pause and think. With Carver, all she had was time and her mind to scream at her that this was all her fault.

She made a great deal of coin off the two staves and even more off of the jeweled daggers. She let Fenris pick out a book from the stall where she usually found all of her history tomes before they headed to the Keep. With a few discussions with several branches of the city's government, she was finally offered the deed to the old Amell estate. She signed her name, handed over the coin and some of the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders.

She waved the keys in Fenris' face and grinned. "Look we're neighbors!"

A short hum of laughter followed her out of the Keep as she left to head for the mansion. She fiddled with the locks with shaking hands as Fenris surveyed the courtyard. "You should really post some guards outside your estate, considering all the trouble you get into."

"For right now, I'd settle for getting a good look inside. When I was in here last time, we cleared out the slavers, but there is no accounting for the state they may have left it in. I want to make it perfect for when I surprise Mother," Hawke said, finally getting the lock open and pushing the rusty door open with all her weight.

"Your mother doesn't know you planned on buying this place?" Fenris asked, following her inside, his marks glowing as he prepared for any stragglers that might have been left behind.

The glow lit up the foyer and Hawke sneezed as their footsteps kicked up dust. The slavers must have operated mostly out of the basement. "Mother has no idea how much coin I made from that expedition. In spite of Bartrand's best efforts to come out on top, we found an actual treasure trove guarded by demons and ancient rock-wraiths after he stranded us." The entryway was large enough that Hawke would be able to set up some seating in case she wished to make anyone wait to be washed in her presence. Not that she ever would, but it was the thought that counted. She moved slowly through the entry door. It opened up into a large common area with a massive fireplace to the right. Fenris calmed his markings and Hawke flicked a fireball beneath the mantle to light the logs that had been left. The fire shone light on the room, but it was still dim. She called her magic again to rip down the dark curtains. The morning sun streamed into the room and Hawke gasped. "Look at this place!"

The common area was larger than Gamlen's entire house. Hawke closed her eyes and imagined how it could look after she cleaned up a bit. She smelled more than felt Fenris moving closer. "Impressive," he mused. "It could use an interior decorator."

She snorted at his coy smile as she glanced sideways at him. "I certainly hope you don't have any recommendations. Wine stains are not proper paint, you know." Something about his expression as they shared the small joke made her fingers tingle. She crushed the urge to reach out and touch him. She knew how he felt about touching. She also knew that she was the only one he ever joked with in such a manner. Around the others, even on the nights they all spent at the Hanged Man playing Wicked Grace, he was sullen and broody, barely sparing a few words for anyone. "Let's go see what the rest of the house looks like."

He followed her through each room lending little more than a stoic presence, but it felt like exactly the thing she needed. At the opposite end of the common room there was a flight of stairs that led up to the second floor. She bypassed the stairs at first for a peek into the room whose door was right beside the bottom of the stairs. It was a reading room with another fireplace to the right as you entered and a staircase up into a library. The shelves were empty, but she had some books that she had brought from Lothering as well as a few that she had picked up since they moved to Kirkwall. She was certain she would be able to fill the dozen or so bookcases in no time. The library looked down over the entryway and Hawke realized as they approached the enormous barrel mounted near the rail that the Amells must have used this room to host parties. There was also a table across from the barrel with crystal glasses and matching decanters covered in decades of dust. "Your drinking habit runs in the family, Hawke," Fenris teased as he wiped dust from the tabletop.

"Where do you think yours comes from?" she teased back as she picked up one of the decanters and pulled the lid off to take a sniff. Time had not been kind to the whiskey in the bottle and she quickly set it down, her nose wrinkled.

He shrugged. "Years of memories to repress."

"I thought you couldn't remember anything from before you got those markings," she wondered.

"Those memories I do have are more than enough," he assured her, moving to leave the library.

She followed him back down into the reading room and they went upstairs. The landing was a small balcony that over looked the common room. The bedroom doors surrounded the forward and left sides and there were more floor to ceiling windows to the right that looked across the way into the neighbor's bedroom. Hawke shouted aloud as if the man could hear her as Fenris sidled up beside her and hummed one of his three note chuckles before walking away. "Makers breath, put some clothes on, man!" She sighed and averted her eyes. "I suppose that's one way to get to know your neighbors." Two bedrooms stood on the second floor and in front of the staircase from the first floor across the balcony there was a second set of stairs that led up to the third floor. "I wonder which one was Mother's old room," Hawke mused as she poked her head into the dusty rooms filled with covered furniture. Each bedroom had it's own fireplace set strategically to limit the amount of chimneys on the roof.

Hawke took a shine to the master bedroom. It was nice and private with no eye level windows. It was larger than the other rooms and it sported the frame to a large four post bed complete with canopy. There was a small desk and chair near the entrance and she pictured herself using the space to put Varric's Wintersday gift to use. After they had explored the house, Hawke locked up and she and Fenris made their way to the Hanged Man. Hawke was in much better spirits and she wanted to properly celebrate her achievement and give Carver a proper toast before getting started on spending the rest of her money on cleaning the place up and buying new furniture.

When she entered the familiar establishment, she sighed as she was wrapped up in the atmosphere. She barely had time to blink before there was a familiar warm set of arms around her. "Welcome back, poppet." Hawke brazenly buried her face in Isabela's neck, inhaling the scent of salty sea air that clung to her skin. "I'm sorry to hear about Carver."

Hawke hugged Isabela tighter for a moment before the pirate took her under her arm and led her to the bar. She rapped her knuckles on the sodden bar and called to Coriff. "Thanks, Izzy."

They sat together in their usul spot by the hearth, both Fenris and Isabela seemingly grappling for Hawke's attention. Hawke sat forward in her chair, her elbows resting on the table as her hands hugged her mug. It was a tense posture that Hawke usually never took. Soon, Varric found his way downstairs and moved to sit with them. "Hawke, I didn't expect to see you here."

"And here I was waiting on you lazy bones," she teased, forcing herself to sit back and paste on a smile.

"Ach, I've bathed four times. I'm still trying to get the smell of Deep Roads off of me," he grumbed waving for a drink. "You know, Daisy passed her share of the spoils back to me last night? Said she didn't want to think about what happened and the money was reminding her."

Isabela snorted. "Poor kitten. You know she was sweet on the boy."

"Yeah, I know." Varric sighed as Norah brought his drink and he tapped mugs with Hawke. "To Carver."

Hawke agreed and downed the rest of her own drink that she had been nursing. "So what are you going to do with your share of the riches, Varric?" she asked, despertely trying to change the subject. She had listened to her mother's muffled sobs all the previous night and Carver was the last thing she wanted to think about.

"Shit, I don't know. I have everything I need right here. Maybe I'll invest it in Orlesian cheeses," he said with a chuckle.

"That's a smart buy," Hawke agreed with a smirk as Isabela passed her another drink. " _I've_ already bought back the Amell estate. No more living in Uncle Gamlen's smelly hovel... That is, once I clean up the place."

"Pay someone else to do it," Varric suggested. "I fully plan on giving you half of Daisy's share. Your family certainly deserves it."

"So, any word on your own brother?" Hawke wondered, recognizing the sneer on Varric's face.

Varric sighed heavily. "Unfortunately he only stopped in Kirkwall for a few days before fleeing. I haven't got a bead on where he's going, but I'll find him. Don't you worry, Hawke. I was thinking on asking Bodhan if he has any idea. Him and that boy of his are back in the Merchant's guild."

"If you need any help leaning on anyone, I'm here," she said with a wink.

He chuckled. "Right now, let's just spend our day getting piss poor drunk."

"Hear, hear!" Hawke agreed, lifting her mug and then tipping it back.

 

Hawke spent the next week, first attempting to clean up the estate on her own, but soon realizing that she needed professional help and hiring the men she needed. Simply removing all of the dust and adding furniture gave the house a glow that seemed to light up the rooms. Hawke discretely hung small sconces around each room that she embedded charged crystals in that with a single touch from anyone would light or darken. It was a similar spell to Anders' lanterns. As she hung the final one, she wondered if he had heard she was back or if he knew what had happened. She wanted to tell her mother about the estate, but suddenly, visiting Anders' clinic seemed more important. She dressed in her unruly tunic, the top unlaced as usual, and a simple pair of leggins that slipped easily inside her knee high boots that had replaced her ruined, dragon chewed ones.

The day was pleasant and she had almost forgotten what it was like to trudge through Darktown until she was deep in it. When she approached Anders' clinic, the doors were closed, but his lanterns were lit. She glanced around and realized that he was situated only a few feet from the entrance to her cellars. She smirked and saved that tidbit for later. It would make visiting him much easier. She quietly pushed open the door on the right and slipped inside, shuffling her boots on the thin rug before looking up to see if he was busy. At first, she didn't see him, and the clinic was unusually empty. Then she noticed him, pacing in his small bedroom as he read over some recently crumpled and resmoothed papers. "Knock knock," she said softly as she made her way to him, her hips swaying casually as he turned abruptly at the sound of her voice.

He frowned for a moment before acknowledging her. "Hawke..."

"What?" she teased, pausing by his desk to cock her hips and prop her hands on them. "Not glad to see me?"

"No... I mean yes, I am. I just... I didn't think you would come," he stuttered as he placed the papers in his hands on the desk, putting him so close that she could smell the hint of elfroot on him. He had likely been brewing draughts earlier in the day.

"I haven't been to see Aveline either. She would just ask questions that I don't think I'm ready to answer..." Hawke admitted, her hands slipping from her hips to wrap around her waist. She shifted her alluring stance without realizing it, hugging herself.

"Right. I heard about what happened. I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, taking a step back as she set her bright blue eyes on him, looking for anything besides pity.

She snorted at his sympathies and smirked. "No you're not."

He glanced up, his expression horrified until he saw the casual and teasing smile on her face. "You're right. I'm not. He was a git... But he was still _your_ brother."

"Oh, so you _do_ care," she continued to tease.

His response was cut short as his door burst open and his eyes flashed that impossible glowing blue before he realized that there was no threat, but patients. He rushed to the side of the couple, the woman leaning heavily on the man, her bulging abdomen all the explanation they needed. Anders ushered them to a bed and the laboring woman sat gingerly on the edge, gripping the man's shoulder tightly. He fell into healer mode, focusing on nothing but the fearful cries of the woman as she insised that there was something wrong. Anders touched a hand to her belly, his magic swirling through the room as he assessed the problem. Hawke watched intently, her stomach clenching and her heart swelling as she realized that she had never truly been mad at him for what he said about Cullen. "The baby is the wrong way 'round," he said calmly to the woman. "I can turn him, but it's not going to be pleasant."

As the woman tearfully agreed, Hawke dragged her attention away from the man who made her head spin. It was then that she noticed the little girl standing in the doorway of the clinic, all but forgotten, clutching a ragged teddy bear, tears dripping down her chubby cheeks. Hawke approached the girl who hugged her bear tighter and hid her face behind it. With a bright, reassuring smile, Hawke knelt and patiently waited for the girl to lower her guard. "I'm Marian. What's your name?"

The little girl sobbed and rubbed at her eyes. "Ha... Hannah," she said softly.

"And who is this?" Hawke asked, tapping a finger gently on the bear's head.

"Stitch," Hannah sniffled.

"Well, as you can see, our main healer is very busy with a very important client, but if you think Stitch needs healing that badly, I know a bit of magic myself," Hawke said conspiratorially as she called a small bit of healing magic to her palm and held it out to the girl. Hannah gasped and a small smile flicked over her face before she glanced back at her mother who cried out in agony as Anders twisted the baby around in her womb. Hawke inched her head to the side to capture Hannah's attention again. "So what seems to be the trouble with Stitch, here?"

Hannah was easily distracted as most young children and she giggled softly through her tears, "Stitch isn't sick."

"Oh!" Hawke said in mock surprise, still maintaining her smile. "So Stitch has brought you to see me?"

Hannah giggled again. "No! I'm here with my Mum and Da!"

Hannah's face went somber again as she looked around Hawke to her parents. Hawke took the girl's small hand in hers and said, "You see that man helping your mum? He is a friend of mine. He saved my life once. There is nothing he can't heal. How about you and I go over here and I'll show you my scar?"

Hannah's mouth gaped and she nodded emphatically. Hawke led her over to one of the cots and sat down, patting the seat beside her. She then untucked her tunic from her belt and lifted it as Hannah climbed up to join her. There was still a thin line just above her navel where the Qunari spear had entered. Hannah looked at it in awe. "Wow!" she said, her small fingers reaching out to touch the marred flesh. "Does it hurt?"

Hawke shook her head. "Not even a little. That is because my friend over there made me all better. Just like he's making your mum all better... You know I was a big sister, too."

"Really?" Hannah asked as Hawke dropped her tunic back around her waist.

"Yes. I was the oldest of _three_." She held up her fingers. "The most important thing to remember as an older sibling is that you need to be brave and to protect your family. Can you be brave for your mum and your baby brother?" Hawke asked, pulling her legs up under her so she was facing Hannah head on.

Hannah nodded slowly, hugging her bear again. "I... I think so."

Hawke listened to the low coaching from Anders and Hannah's father's whispering encouragement as her mother continued to labor now that Anders had literally worked his magic and sorted the breach. This was where he shone. The clinic was where he was meant to be. His determination and focus made him good at it, and his calm demeanor and easy smiles gave him spectacular bedside manner. How Justice had managed to worm his way into Anders' life and set him on the mildly destructive path he was on, Hawke would never understand. But Maker did she want to. She dragged her attention away from the scene and back to her charge. Hannah was sitting quietly, watching as well. "Would you like to see more magic?" Hawke asked, drawing Hannah's attention again. Hannah nodded and smiled, Hawke returning the gesture before lifting her hand and casting a tiny flicker of mana that she formed into little sparks of electricity that she then rolled over each finger in a wave. When it reached the other hand, she turned it into a pinprick of fire. When she snapped her fingers, the fire danced from finger tip to finger tip before she pushed more heat into it so it burned briefly blue. Then she cupped her hands around it and pulled the mana back into herself making the fire disappear.

For a few more hours, Hawke gladly entertained the small girl until the wail of a newborn broke the muffled noises of the clinic. She had also diverted to helping a couple of other clients who had come in with various ailments. She was no spirit healer, but her work was appreciated and Anders threw her a few thankful smiles from Hannah's mother's bedside. Hannah's father waved the girl over as Anders swaddled the infant and handed him over to his parents. He moved away from the bed, rings forming under his eyes as he headed for the wash basin to clean up his hands. Hawke moved to shadow him and caught him as he stumbled. "Sorry," he sighed.

"What's there to be sorry about?" she wondered as he leaned on the narrow table briefly before dipping his hands in the water. She reached out and touched a finger to the bowl, warming the water for him. He was clearly spent.

"You came to see me and wound up spending your afternoon as my assistant..." he said apologetically.

Hawke shrugged. "I like watching you work."

He glanced over at her briefly, the usual stricken look flashing over his face that he always got whenever she showed an intrest in him. "Don't," he sighed.

She rolled her eyes and flapped a hand. "I wasn't throwing eyes at you. It's just... nice... to see you in your element."

His hands clenched around the towel he was drying them with. He breathed in an out, refusing to look at her and then set the towel down by the basin. "I'm going to see to the family and then close up. You should go."

Hawke pressed her lips together, cutting her eyes at Anders before she turned on her heel. "I'll see you later, then," she growled as she left, her steps clipped. What had she expected? It was no different than she was used to. Still, it irritated her.

She took the long way from his clinic, stomping through Darktown and making her way up through the back alleys that led her to Gamlen's. It was getting dark and she sighed. She had spent far too much time at the clinic. She would need to wait now until morning to surprise her mother. She diverted from Gamlen's, heading for the Hanged Man. A drink was sorely needed.

Varric was sitting at their usual table alone and he waved her over with a grin. "Let me ask you something, Hawke... You made it into Hightown. I'd expect anyone else to get complacent, but you. You must have plans..."

She shook her head and smiled as Norah brought her a drink. "No plans yet. I'm simply trying to look out for my mother."

He sighed heavily and looked away. "I suppose after the whole business with Carver, it's a good idea to hang on to what you've got. To be honest, I thought there might be a chance you'd want to go back to Ferelden now that things have calmed down. It's good to hear you're sticking around."

Hawke sipped her drink and thought about her life in Kirkwall. She had too many friends here to just up and leave. There was nothing left of Lothering or her life in Ferelden. "What would I do without my trusty dwarf? I'd cry myself to sleep without you."

He chuckled. "Oh, don't get all teary eyed on me Hawke. You know I can't stand to see a human cry. So, we've got a whole city-state full of trouble to get into. Shall we get started?" She chuckled as well, and they settled into a friendly evening of banter and drinking.

 

Hawke arranged for Fenris and Isabela to sneak into Gamlen's the next day to gather her mother's things and move them to the mansion while she treated her to a day out. "What are you up to?" Leandra asked with quirked lips as Hawke dragged her from Gamlen's.

Hawke stifled her victorious smirk as Leandra followed her from the house. "Nothing... It's no secret that I came back from the expedition with a small fortune. I just figured that taking my mother out for the day and buying her fancy things was the least I could do after... after Carver."

Leandra scoffed as she walked beside Hawke. "You shouldn't blame yourself for your brother. He was a grown man and made his own decisions. You're not responsible..."

"But I am," Hawke insisted as she stared down at her own hand that had plunged the dagger into Carver's heart. "So I'm selfish. This is all for me to make me feel better. Either way, I'm taking you shopping. In Hightown, no less."

Leandra linked her arm with Hawke's and offered her a small smile. "I admit that when you came home alone, I wanted to blame you for letting him go with you. But after Bethany, I realize that I can't lay everything on you, dearest."

Hawke couldn't hide both her surprise at the change of heart, and the complete lack of surprise at the initial blame. She had been bracing herself for it since Carver had collapsed. The fact that her mother was even speaking to her was a bit shocking. She led Leandra up through the Lowtown market and up into Hightown. They spent the morning browsing the shops and stalls, Hawke briefly checking in on Hubert concerning the Bone Pit. Then she took her mother to lunch at one of the cafes above the residential district. They found themselves afterwards in the small district that belonged to the dwaven merchant's guild. Hawke was waved down by none other than Bodhan. "I had heard you all had returned, Messere. Let me be the first to say that what Bartrand did to you down in those tunnels was beyond despicable. If I hadn't had Sandal to look out for, I never would have let him march us back out of there without you."

Hawke accepted his handshake with a small smile as Sandal jumped up and down. "Enchantment!"

"I appreciate it, Bodhan. Varric tells me he's been in contact with you since we got back?" she asked.

"Indeed. I've got my ear to the ground just like all of the others. If I can do anything it will be too little. You saved my boy," Bodhan said with a smile at Sandal who grinned widely at Hawke. Then he glanced at Leandra, his eyes making the connection with their resemblance. "I was deeply sorry to hear about what happened... Your son was a good man, Messere," he said to Leandra.

Her mother briefly balked, but returned with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Master Feddic."

They made their way around to a few more stalls, but soon Leandra took hold of Hawke's elbow and squeezed it. "Ready to leave so soon?" Hawke asked with a grin. It was nearing supper time and she was certain that she had given the others sufficient time to finish their task. "I have one more surprise for you." She whipped a blindfold from her pocket and swirled her finger for her mother to turn around so she could cover her eyes.

Leandra sighed and turned slowly. As Hawke secured the cloth over her eyes and waved her hand before her to be certain she couldn't see, Leandra sighed. "I certainly hope that this isn't one of your pranks like when you were little."

Hawke hooked their arms and slowly guided her mother to the mansion, glad they had done this where they didn't need to deal with any stairs. When they were standing outside, she centered her mother outside the door and palmed the spare key making certain that the family crests were hanging just so before saying, "Why are you just standing there with a blindfold on. Go on, take it off!"

Leandra reached up and slipped the blindfold from her eyes, freeing the small bits of her hair that were tangled in the knot and glanced up at Hawke as she beamed at her mother. Her eyes glanced from Hawke's expression to the key held before her and then to the large family crests. "Andraste preserve me," she gasped, her hand falling to her breast. "You didn't!"

"Welcome home, Mother," Hawke said, thrusting the key towards her again.

Leandra took it with shaking hands and moved into the alcove of the door to unlock it. Just inside, Hawke had placed the benches as planned, each with it's own small rug beneath. Through the entry, the large chandelier hung, beaming with magelight to drown the parlor in light. There were decorations and furniture placed strategically with a writing desk against the wall beneath the second floor balcony. Hawke was still receiving requests for help and was using that as the place where her mail was to be set.

Alfie was waiting patiently on the floor by the fire and when she entered, he bounded up to her, jumping up and down excitedly in front of her. She gave him a few calming pats as she noticed her mother's things stacked neatly by the staircase. "I wasn't sure which room was your old one, or if you even wanted your old room back. I did claim the master bedroom though. I hope you don't mind," Hawke said, gesturing to her things.

Leandra glanced at Hawke after her eyes began to water as she looked around her childhood home. "Mind? Marian, you've bought the house. You claim whatever bedroom you wish." She suddenly gathered Hawke in a tight hug, a happy sigh escaping her. "It's almost just as I remember it. Thank you, darling."

Hawke followed her mother upstairs toward the second floor and found that her bedroom had been the one beside her own. The favored bedroom for the favorite child. Her fingers passed over mildly splintered wood on the banister as she climbed that she had not noticed before. When she looked down at the crude carving beneath her fingertips, she snorted and gasped, rolling her eyes. "Is that?... Isabela! Who carves _that_ into a stairway!"

"What was that, darling?" Leandra asked, poking her head back out of the bedroom.

"Oh, nothing!" Hawke said, covering the snicker at Isabela marking the fact that she had been there and hoping her mother never noticed.

Leandra emerged from the room, smiling. "We should throw a housewarming party. I haven't met enough of your friends. I know you've made quite a few if Carver was to be believed."

"I'm not sure my friends are your sort of company, Mother," Hawke said with a chuckle. "They can get a bit _rowdy_."

Leandra smiled. "What better way to move back into Hightown than with a rowdy party?"

"Mother!" Hawke scolded with a chuckle.

"I won't embarrass you by lingering with your company, but I won't mind if you invite them over so I can at least get a look at them," Leandra smiled, patting Hawke's forearm.

"If you insist. Although I will need to collect them. They are scattered all over the city," Hawke said.

"I'll just be here settling in. I may even make some snacks. Is the larder well stocked?" Leandra asked.

"To the brim! Go nuts!" Hawke encouraged. "Although, most of my friends are more interested in the drinks at a party rather than the food."

"It won't hurt for me to prepare either. Now go!" Leandra shooed Hawke and she went swiftly, heading for the basement. She would work her way up from Darktown, claiming Fenris and Aveline last.

She slipped out the cellar door and locked it behind her. Anders' lanterns were dark, but she knew he was likely within, scribbling his manifesto. She knocked softly, waiting for a response. She was just about to turn away, thinking he just might not be home when the door creaked open. When he saw it was her, he cocked his head and his eyes flicked up and down her person. "Are you alright? What are you doing here? I thought you were templars."

She smirked. "Do templars generally knock?"

His own smile spread. "No, I suppose they don't. Did you need something?"

"I just finished up refurbishing the mansion and when I brought Mother there, she insisted I throw a housewarming party. Would you like to come?" Hawke asked, toeing the dirt beneath her feet.

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before nodding slowly. "I have a few things to finish up with here, I'll be by in a little while if that's okay?"

"Sure," Hawke insisted. "Take your time. The night is still young." She turned and began to head toward Lowtown when he called after her.

"Hawke..." she looked over her shoulder at him. "Thank you... for inviting me."

"Of course," she said, her eyes roaming up and down his person before she winked and resumed her stroll away from his doorstep.

She visited Merrill next who vehemently agreed to join her and they walked together to the Hanged Man, Merrill babbling so Hawke wouldn't notice that she was adamantly refusing to say anything about Carver. It made the avoidance even more noticeable, but Hawke smiled and allowed her to babble if it made her feel better. Everyone coped differently. Picking up the others was a piece of cake. Hawke had forgotten it was Wicked Grace night, and Fenris was already with Varric and Isabela. All she had left was to visit with Aveline.

The others waited outside the Keep while Hawke went in, making her way importantly through to the Barracks. She finally had the house and status to actually belong. She shuffled down the stairs to where Aveline's office stood and pushed the door open. Aveline was predictably at her desk, pouring over more books. She looked up, her green eyes settling on Hawke and her casual attire. "Hawke, I was wondering when you would feel ready to come and talk to me," she said softly, abandoning her books to stand and round the desk. "I won't bother you with questions, just... are you all right?"

"I'll be... yes, I'm fine," Hawke said with a smile after fumbling the delivery.

Aveline pulled her into a hug that lasted only a few moments before she pulled away and leaned against the desk, her arms crossed. "So, I heard you bought the Amell estate."

"That's actually why I'm here. I just finished making it liveable and Mother liked it so much that she practically forced me to invite everyone I know to a housewarming party tonight. Do you think you can take a few hours... For Leandra?" Hawke asked.

Aveline glanced at the piles of scrolls and books on her desk and then back at Hawke. "I suppose I can take a few hours. Give me some time to change and I'll come by."

"I'll see you then, Captain," Hawke said with a salute before rejoining the others to head to the mansion.

 

Leandra was true to her word and didn't linger after introducing herself. She took a bottle of wine and a glass and went up to her room with a book. The night was nice, Hawke allowing herself to relax as she had on Wintersday, surrounded by her friends. As the night stretched on, Varric left first with Merrill, the elf so tipsy after drowning her grief the he insisted on taking her home before she threw up on Hawke's new rugs. Aveline called it a night as well, claiming she had an early morning. Anders never showed up and Hawke sat slouched in a wingback, nursing a bottle of whiskey, her tunic rumpled and falling from her shoulder. Fenris was next to leave, bidding her goodnight and she was alone with Isabela. The pirate disappeared momentarily to reappear on the stairs, coming down.

Hawke had just gotten up to search for her, setting the bottle on the nearest end table when she began to saunter slowly down the stairs. She smirked like she had something on her mind, and Hawke's breath hitched in her chest. Isabela's fingers lingered over her own artwork as she practically flowed down the stairs. "So this is where you live now? Not bad," she purred, her neck craning as she surveyed the high ceilings, giving Hawke a glimpse of the skin beneath all of her shimmering gold jewelry. "I preferred the old place. It had... more charm."

"You're talking about the _shack_ I shared with my mother, uncle and brother?" Hawke said in disbelief as Isabela approached her.

Isabela chuckled in her throat. "I _meant_ Lowtown. Dirty, chaotic, glorious Lowtown!" she hummed, circling Hawke like a predator ready to pounce. "The smell of tar and the sea, and the sound of some whore plying her trade in a back alley... Don't you miss _that_?" Her lips were hovering just behind Hawke's right ear, her words shifting her hair.

Hawke swallowed, wondering if this was finally it. It had been a year and Isabela had toyed with her hard. "You can get your thrills in Hightown," Hawke retorted, tipping her head so her lips were just out of Isabela's reach. " _If_ you know where to look..."

"Oh?" Isabela asked the smirk barely visible at the angle, but her tone dripping with suggestion. "And where would that be?"

Hawke twisted into Isabela's space and rested her forearms on the pirate's shoulders. "I can show you what I have in mind..." Then she turned and started up the stairs toward her new bedroom. Her fancy new mattress was in dire need of a good breaking in. Isabela trailed closely behind her. When they reached the top of the stairs and passed her mother's door, Isabela reached out and grabbed hold of Hawke's hand, pulling hard so she was forced to turn back into her waiting arms. Once there, for a brief moment, Isabela studied her face critically as if making absolutely certain that Hawke was not too intoxicated to be making this decision. Hawke gripped the hunk of Isabela's hip that was in her hands and jammed their lips together.

It was all the encouragement Isabela needed. A short exhaled laugh slipped past Hawke's lips from Isabela's mouth as she jumped into Hawke's arms, wrapping her legs around Hawke's waist and grinding her hips against her. Hawke began to move toward her room as they kissed in a whirlwind of hands as they both tried to touch each other everywhere they could reach. Hawke kicked the door closed, her hands roving all up and down Isabela's thighs as she backed across the room. Their kiss broke twice as Hawke reached up, jostling Isabela so she could yank the two daggers from their holster on her back and toss them aside. The daggers clattered as they hit the floor and Hawke's legs slammed into the foot of the bed, tipping them onto the mattress. Isabela landed on top of Hawke and leaned in to aim her mouth for Hawke's exposed neck. Hawke hissed as something sharp dug into her side as Isabela grinded herself against Hawke's hips. Isabela sat up, reaching between her own legs and pulled another hidden dagger from a thigh sheathe. With a smirk, she tossed that one aside too and dove back in. Hawke's hands wandered up Isabela's thighs and over her voluptuous rear as Isabela's teeth found her earlobe. She squeezed as Isabela's hands, completely independent of her mouth slipped up Hawke's bare shoulder and then into her loose tunic. Hawke's fingers got between Isabela's skin and the thin band of fabric that she was always flashing of her underwear and they lingered, caressing slowly before she moved her hands up underneath the tight Hauberk, fighting the bones that kept it wrapped around her torso without riding up.

The sash that normally rode Isabela's hips found its way around Hawke's wrist and she tugged roughly at it while Isabela set her teeth on her collar bone. Hawke gasped as she bit down, marking the spot before moving on to another, her tongue trailing along Hawke's skin. After a few more bites, Isabela sat up, her hands trailing down over Hawke's chest and stomach as she straddled her hips. Then she took Hawke's hands with one of hers and the other liberated the sash from it's place with practiced ease. Isabela carefully held Hawke's wrists together, wrapping the sash around them in a sailors knot and smirking. She lifted Hawke's arms above her head, pressing them into the mattress and resting her breasts over Hawke's face with a chuckle. Hawke turned her head, using her own teeth to take hold of the bounty of flesh. When she gently bit down, Isabela pulled away and gently slapped her face. Then she sat back, wagging her finger before tugging slowly on the strings that held her hauberk in place.

She undressed herself in Hawke's lap as Hawke watched with rapture. The hauberk poooled in her lap, exposing her entire upper half, the vambrace and other armor discarded on the floor. "Do you want to touch them?" Isabela purred as she ran her hands over Hawke's now exposed abdomen after she lifted the tunic up. Hawke nodded, her teeth biting into her own lip. She clenched her muscles to move her hands, but somehow, Isabela had fastened her to the headboard. She struggled to fulfill the movement she was denied but Isabela leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You'll have to cum for me first, poppet."

Hawke whimpered and strained, and Isabela finished the job she had started on Hawke's tunic, lifting it over her head and leaving it at her wrists. Hawke was certainly less endowed than Isabela, but that did not stop the pirate from dipping down to run her tongue over her nipples, hardening them with the attention. Then she slid off of Hawke, standing and allowing the hauberk to fall away, leaving her in nothing but the skimpy excuse for smallclothes and her tall boots. As she worked Hawke's leggins free, then moved to climb back on the bed, Hawke cocked another smirk at her. "Keep the boots... for now."

"As you wish," Isabela said with her own grin of approval. Then she danced her fingers down Hawke's side, raising gooseflesh where she touched. "Is this everything you've been fantasizing about?" Isabela hummed, kissing Hawke's neck as her hand wandered ever lower until her fingers were mingling just shy of penetration.

"I've been pleasantly surprised so far," Hawke gasped as Isabela's finger swiped over her edges, making her hips thrust as she ached for her to go deeper.

Isabela obliged, slowly dipping one finger and then two, drawing a satisfied moan from Hawke's lips as she began to push and pull in and out, climbing on top of Hawke so her hips were grinding in time with her hand. She wiggled her fingers, touching every inch like only another woman could understand to do. Hawke's hips worked in time as her breath hitched and she felt her body building up to bursting. Her moans were unabashed as she fought to breathe around the cascade of pleasure as the dam broke around Isabela's fingers. "Maker's balls," Isabela panted as she slipped her hand from inside and ran her slick fingers up Hawke's body and over a breast, squeezing lightly before pressing herself against Hawke to reach up and release her from the sash. "You have earned your prize, poppet."

Hawke brought her hands down, immediately taking handfuls of Isabela's breasts as her body twitched, coming down from the vision blurring orgasm that the pirate had just given her. She played with the heavy mounds, teasing Isabela's nipples as she had hers, and as soon as she could feel her legs again, she pulled out from under her and wrapped her legs around Isabela's hips and flipped them both over so she was on top. It was her turn to take over, taking her sweet time as she made her way down Isabela's well formed curves, laying kisses along her dark skin. After she slipped off Isabela's underwear, she lifted one of her legs over her shoulder and kissed her way from the top of the boots up her thigh and then plunged her tongue where Isabela's fingers had been touching her only minutes ago. Isabela gasped audibly, one of her hands reaching down to wrap in Hawke's hair as she swirled her tongue in small, precise circles. Isabela tasted much as Hawke had expected... like the ocean. The only other woman Hawke had been with in Lothering had been different. She had tasted earthy, a product of her environment.

She worked her tongue, gripping Isabela's thigh with one hand and working her fingers over a nipple with the other. She could feel Isabela's breath coming faster and her hips started to move up and down, quickening Hawke's pace. Just as Isabela's muscles clenched, Hawke replaced her tongue swiftly with her fingers so she could finish the job while allowing Isabela to taste herself as Hawke pressed her body to hers, kissing her deeply and allowing Isabela to claw at her back with her nails. As Isabela twitched beneath her, Hawke playfully wiggled her fingers making Isabela jump away from her and chuckle, giving Hawke the sensation of her muscles clenched around her fingers once more before she slowly slipped them out. The first words out of Isabela's mouth as she turned her head to glance at Hawke were a surprised gasp followed by, "You've been with another woman before?"

Hawke chuckled, shifting onto her back to lay beside Isabela. "Another _girl_ really. We were both young and inexperienced, but I learned a few things in our short time together."

"Well, that's a surprise. Normally, the women I bring to bed need to be guided around the curves and are more takers than givers, but poppet, you are certainly a giver." Isabela reached up to run her fingers through her tousled hair. "That was... hmm..." she said with a sloppy grin on her face. "Thank you."

"Oooh thanks. I like praise," Hawke said, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her elbow.

Isabela chuckled. "You may get even more than that if you give me a few minutes."

They spent the rest of the night exchanging favors until they both exhausted each other. Hawke woke in the morning, her body still humming, to Isabela straightening her bodice. She shifted her gaze over her shoulder from where she stood at the bottom of the bed and smiled languidly at Hawke. "Thank you again, poppet. I should go. I wouldn't want to take advantage of your... hospitality."

Hawke sat up, the thin sheet pooling at her hips as she grinned flirtatiously. "I like it when you take advantage of my hospitality," she joked.

Isabela continued to smile. "It was fun, wasn't it? Well, you know, if you ever want to do it again..." Then she turned her body half way around and a startled look crossed over her face. "Wait, you're not thinking of bringing _feelings_ into this, are you?"

Hawke burst out laughing before shaking her head, "No, this was just for fun."

"Good," Isabela said with a relieved sigh as she turned and retrieved her daggers, slipping them back into their holsters and smirking again. "Come see me at the tavern sometime..." she continued as she swayed from the room. "I know a cozy little nook behind the ale barrels."

Hawke chuckled and flopped back down to snuggle into the soft down of the mattress. In spite of how few hours she had slept, she felt rejuvenated. It had been forever since she had gotten the chance to just let go of her inhibitions and share that much needed release with someone. Isabela had been exactly what she needed to take her mind off of everything with no strings attached. The pirate must have known that somehow if she had come to her so suddenly after the endless flirting they had been dancing around for a year. Regardless, Hawke hadn't felt so relaxed since fleeing Ferelden.

 


	9. Into Her Lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hawke becomes more famous among the higher ups in the city, responsibility is heaped on her shoulders.

She continued to intermittantly dally with Isabela as she settled into her new lifestyle. It took her six months before the trek to Hightown was as automatic as it had been to head for Gamlen's. Her mother had made friends with all of their neighbors and Hawke had come home more than once to tea with the Arenbergs where she sat awkwardly trying not to picture Messere Arenberg in the state she had first seen him in when she and Fenris had been exploring the house. Leandra also took it upon herself to allow Bodhan and Sandal to live in the mansion in an effort to make Bodhan feel like he was repaying Hawke for saving the boy by acting as their butler. Hawke didn't complain because Sandal would enchant anything she gave him, eagerly waiting by the door each time she went out in case she was bringing home something else he could play with. He also got along famously with Alfie, the two holding rousing conversations while barking back and forth at each other.

As entertaining as Isabela was, Hawke found herself drawn closer and closer to Fenris as Anders continuously gave her the cold shoulder randomly. Her go to group of companions that she would take on her little jobs, that she now did out of charity rather than for the meager coin she made from them, was Varric, Anders, and Fenris. She had almost gotten used to the constant bickering between the two, even came to find it expectantly comforting. Some things never changed.

She found herself one day almost a year after the expedition wandering the Chantry after returning a lost item to one of the brothers. It had been some time since she had stepped foot in the Chantry and she was surprised to see Prince Sebastian talking with the Revered Mother. She paused, listening in and wondering why he was still in the city. "I thought it would end here. That young lady, Hawke, she decimated Flint Company. No survivors," Sebastian said and Hawke moved closer, interested after hearing her own name. "Yet... now that I know who sent them, it's harder to see their deaths as justice."

"Death is never justice," the Revered Mother said sadly with a shake of her head.

Sebastian looked away from her in shame and began to speak as his gaze found Hawke where she was hovering. "I... Hawke! We were just talking about you."

"Carry on," she offered with a grin as she approached the pulpit where they stood. "I love to eavesdrop."

" 'Hawke said sarcastically'," Varric narrated from her side.

She turned a glare on him as he grinned at her. "You know, I hate it when you do that."

" 'Hawke muttered in an angry aside to the dwarf...' " he teased. It had become his latest joke to do that everytime they actually had something interesting to do as if he were egging her on so he could write it all down later.

"If, ah, you two have a moment?" Sebastian said politely, drawing Hawke's attention from Varric who went quiet. "I've learned who hired Flint Company... the Harimanns, a noble family of Kirkwall. They were my parents' allies. It's hard to believe they betrayed us like this."

"Any idea why they turned on you?" Hawke asked, genuinely interested as she crossed her arms.

"Money? Power? It's hard to say," Sebastian said with a shrug. "Lady Harimann was always jealous of my family for being royalty when hers were merely nobility... But I can't imagine that pushing her into outright murder."

Hawke sighed wistfully. "This is why the cycle of violence never gets broken."

"You jest, but that's the truth," The Revered Mother said sadly. "Give this up, Sebastian. Dedicate yourself to the Chantry, as you swore."

Sebastian ignored the Mother's pleas and turned to Hawke. "I must speak with Lady Harimann and find out what drove her to this madness. But I am the last of my line. I should not go alone and make myself a target."

Hawke glanced between Sebastian and the Revered Mother and noticed one uncomfortable fact. "Why's everybody looking at me?"

Varric chuckled. "I don't know why Choir Boy here didn't yell, 'Hawke to the rescue!' That's clearly what he was going for."

The Revered Mother sighed. "If this allows Sebastian to make peace, it is worth doing. You've taken on lesser causes."

"Please," Sebastian asked softly, settling his aqua eyes on her in desperation. "I have no one else to turn to. If you like, I can travel with you until you confront Lady Harimann. Otherwise, you can always find me here in the Chantry."

"I have some time if you'd like to go now," Hawke offered with a shrug. Her mother had planned another get together with neighbors and Hawke was eager for a way to get out of it.

Sebastian made a half bow and smiled greatfully. "Allow me to fetch my bow, and I will meet you outside the Chantry."

She led her own group out into the warm air and stretched her arms over her head. "I wonder if the pay will be as good as last time," Varric mused thoughtfully.

Hawke snorted. "We're only babysitting a Prince this time. It shouldn't require all of the walking into the mountains that we had to do to track down Flint Company." She leaned her back against the side of the Chantry and crossed her arms, propping her foot on the wall behind her. "Besides, it's not like we need the money."

"Tell that to the elf over here," Varric tossed his head towards Fenris who crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "He still owes me five sovereigns."

"I'm good for it," Fenris grumbled softly with a small quirk of his lips toward Hawke.

"Meaning you'll borrow it from Hawke, most likely," Varric chuckled.

Hawke chuckled and pushed away from the wall as Sebastian came from the Chantry, the large doors making a loud bang as they closed behind him. He joined them and said amiably, "The Harimann estate is just up this way..." he pointed in the direction she would take into the residential district to get to Fenris' mansion and as he led them, he talked, the rest of her party trailing behind. "I understand that your family has moved into Hightown as well?"

"Yes," she agreed. "It's just me and my mother in that big old mansion."

Both Anders and Fenris made a harrumphing sound that she ignored and Sebastian seemed to not hear. "I'm glad to hear you've done well for yourself. It is difficult to build from nothing in this city, but you clearly have the skill."

"I do my best... I have other skills as well," Hawke said suggestively.

They were passing by Fenris' mansion and he grunted. "You seem to have enough people at your back, Hawke. Perhaps it's best if I go."

"Are you sure?" she asked softly, swearing she saw a certain amount of hurt in his eyes.

"Yes, I need to..." Instead of finishing his sentence, he simply diverted and went inside his house, shutting the door heavily behind him.

"Must be the brooding hour," Varric said with a chuckle.

Hawke pressed her lips together and sighed. "Let's just go. Sebastian, lead on."

They continued to the Harimann's in silence. When they reached the front door and Sebastian knocked softly with the shining gold plated knocker, the door swung open on it's own. "That's strange. The door's wide open. And not a single guard posted," he mused, carefully poking his head into the entryway. "This is not the Lady Harimann I remember..."

Hawke took a hold of Sebastian's arm, tugging him gently behind her. She was here to protect him after all. She took her staff from her back and tapped the butt on the ground, lighting the crystal so she could see better in the dimly lit mansion. The layout was similar to Fenris' home and she moved inside confidently, looking around for any signs of life.

"There is something very wrong in here," Sebastian said softly as they climbed to the main floor.

Suddenly Hawke heard a voice from deeper in the mansion and she followed the angry tone. "More! You lazy son of a bitch! What's taking so long?"

"Flora?" Sebastian gasped as they came upon a young woman standing in front of a large cask and seemingly talking to the barrel.

"Why does no one in this house care what I want? More wine! Or I swear, I will drown you in the dregs!" the woman shouted as Sebastian approached her, waving a hand in front of her face. She ignored him completely, pounding a fist on the cask.

"That sounds familiar," Varric sighed. "I don't envy anyone in this household tomorrow morning."

"She doesn't even see us. This is no normal wine," Sebastian said, rejoining them and leaving the woman to her business.

Hawke frowned, not liking the strange feeling she was getting from the house as they pushed further in. "Do you feel that, Anders?" she asked softly.

"The veil... it's like it's being tugged on," he said with a shudder.

Hawke nodded her agreement and stepped into another room where a man was pacing back and forth beside a large copper cauldron filled with gold, a fire burning dangerously below it. "More logs! It must be molten!" Two elves stood on the opposite side of the cauldron, more coins and trinkets at their feet. The male held a dagger to the female's throat as she sobbed. "You! More coins! I want every scrap of gold in this house!"

"P-please, messere," the female elf pleaded.

"There's nothing to fear. You'll be beautiful," the man said gently, touching her face before picking up more coins and throwing them into the cauldron. "Pour it over her!"

"Don't!" Sebastian gasped. "You'll kill her! He can't hear me."

At the sound of his voice, the male elf with the dagger turned and came at him sloppily. Sebastian knocked him cold with a right hook and the girl ran from the room, sobbing. "Perhaps I should be the one..." the man said continuing to ignore them as Anders snuffed the fire with a mild winters grasp.

He had been working with her on and off to help her hone her frost skills whenever she would visit him at the clinic and they met a slow day. Ever since the day she had met Hannah, she had decided that she enjoyed helping him. When she had nothing else going on, she would bring him lunch and help him through the afternoon. She was not sure how he made her feel, but she knew that she enjoyed the time they spent together, and she could tell from the looks they would share and the coy smiles that he flashed her that he enjoyed her company as well. His insistence that he would break her heart frustrated her endlessly.

"We must end this madness!" Sebastian cried. They continued deeper into the house looking to find Lady Harimann. "I visited this house often as a child. They could not have concealed such goings on," he mused as they climbed the stairs to the master suite. Instead of Lady Harimann, they found an older male, likely her husband, half naked and giggling madly as an elven girl slowly undressed in front of him and then knelt to pull him from his breeches and kiss down his chest.

"Oh... lower... lower," he cackled in pleasure, rolling his eyes back in his head.

Hawke smirked as Sebastian's cheeks flushed a bright red. "I beg your pardon, Hawke. I did not mean to expose you to such things."

She tipped her head casually as the man held the elf's head where he wanted it and coached her. "No! The feather! Use the feather!" He let her stand and then followed her up, his massive erection on display to the whole room as he threw is arms out to the side and bellowed. "Where have you been all my life? Today, I am more than a man! Come! Felicitate me!"

"He has no idea we're here!" Sebastian said, his mouth gaping as he continued to stare just as they all were. "I've known Ruxton Harimann my whole life. He's a complete prude!" He finally dragged his eyes away to settle them on Hawke who was still smirking at the show in front of them.

"Mid-life crisis?" Varric said with a chortle.

"Where's your brother?" the man asked the girl. "Let's ask him to join us..."

Sebastian took Hawke's arm and pulled her from the room. With a sigh she followed, and they continued to hunt for Lady Harimann. The last place they had to check was the basement. Hawke took the lead, elbowing past Sebastian when she noticed the three lunatics they had already run into standing in a line at the bottom of the stairs. "Turn back. There is nothing here for you," Flora said in a threatening monotone.

"Odd," Hawke pointed out crossing her arms. "When we watched you being a drunken ass, you ignored us completely.

"You shall not enter!" The woman said, pointing to Hawke and scowling.

Then her eyes rolled back in her skull and she fell to the floor, followed by both of the men. After they had passed out, shades and a desire demon manifested around Hawke and the others. She was tempted to shove Sebastian behind her, but he was already loosing arrows into the threats all around. He was almost as deadly in combat as she had seen him the day he pinned the paper back to the Chanter's board with an arrow. She shrugged and began to sling offensive spells, casting a barrier around the Prince as he tore through the shades. She noticed as she fought, an ornate and well crafted bow in the corner of the storage area. She noted the location for later and contined to fight the shades that kept coming. When they wouldn't stop, she called a tempest down around the room and the lightning arched through the shades, stopping more from manifesting and allowing the others to drop the ones that were left. She shook out her fingers as Sebastian gritted his perfectly straight, white teeth in anger. "Demons... temptresses... We must see what greater evil they were protecting."

Hawke agreed wholeheartedly. She now understood why the veil was feeling sticky. They made their way through the cellars and found a passage that had been recently broken through to.

"A ruin? So close to Hightown? I remember no such thing!" Sebastian said in awe as they stepped through the tunnel and into an old cave system that had clearly been deliberately carved. They followed the caverns, Hawke lighting their way and they were attacked several times along the way by demons, shades, and walking corpses.

Finally, they came to a large open cavern lined with support pillars and an altar at the opposite end. Kneeling before a desire demon to the side of the altar was the Lady of the hour. She clasped her hands together and pleaded. "You must give me more. Starkhaven will not submit. I put that idiot Goran Vael into the prince's seat, but the other families won't heed him. I must marry him to Flora and solidify our hold. But I need more power."

"I've given you much," the demon purred in a soft and sultry voice. "Your desires run deep. You've already traded your husband and your children. What more can you offer?"

Hawke sidled up, unafraid of the demon, and crossed her arms. "At the Blooming Rose, fifty silver's standard for a whore."

The demon turned to her and smiled suggestively, likely smelling the magic on Hawke. "You'll hardly find my services 'standard'."

"Who is this?" Lady Harimann shouted, standing from her knees and spinning to get a better look at them. "Who are you? How did you get in here? Sebastian...?" she gaped as he moved up beside Hawke.

He shook his head in disapointment and then frowned. "You were my mother's friend! How could you murder her?"

"Such an ugly word," the demon purred, her lip curling back. "I prefer, 'removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams'."

"This was _your_ idea!" Sebastian accused, wagging a finger at the demon.

"I could create such desires if I wished. But it's far easier to nurture those that already exist," it said, running a hand up and down it's naked side. "The desire for power is easy to find. You and your friend both possess it, do you not? You both wish to rise." She glanced between Sebastian and Hawke.

Hawke shook her head, knowing where this was going. "I will hear no more from you!" She twirled her staff threateningly and shot a large bolt of spirit energy at the demon.

It stumbled back just as an arrow sped past Hawke and planted itself into the demon's forehead. Lady Harimann attacked with her rage, but she and the couple of shades that appeared were no match for all of them. When the woman fell, Sebastian sighed, shouldering his bow. "Let us return to the Chantry. I must pray for Lady Harimann's soul."

They made their way back through the ruins and into the basement where Flora Harimann was awaiting them, hugging herself with the remnants of tears on her cheeks. "Sebastian! I am so, so... 'sorry' is such an inadequate word... When I think what mother made us do... What those creatures made us do..."

"We were friends, Flora!" Sebastian snapped back, more disappointment in his voice than anger.

"It was like a cloud came down on me. All I could feel or think was what the demon allowed..." Flora sighed, hugging herself tighter.

"Did your mother order the attack on Sebastian's family?" Hawke asked for him.

"She did," Flora admitted sadly. "You... you know Mother, Sebastian. She was always jealous of your parents. The demon twisted that until it was all she could think of. She was determined to seize Starkhaven for herself."

"Was your mother a mage?" Hawke wondered. She had not felt magic from the woman. "How did she find this demon?"

Flora shook her head. "We've never had magic in our line. Perhaps that made Mother too confident. She thought she could deal with a demon and not fall prey to it."

"Right!" Anders broke in. "It is demons who should be feared, not mages." Hawke rolled her eyes. This wasn't the time.

"Those ruins there were unearthed when we expanded the house," Flora explained. "Mother found the demon inside. I think she had signed her bargain before we even knew."

"So, you get all the debauchery and none of the blame?" Hawke accused.

"Do not suggest I did this by choice!" Flora snapped at her.

"It's a demon of desire, Flora, not coercion. It can't tempt you with anything you truly don't want," Sebastian sighed.

Flora straightened her stance a squared her shoulders. "If it takes every last coin my family owns, I will make reparations to everyone we've wronged. Starting with you, Sebastian. We weren't the only ones vying for Starkhaven. If you face more opposition, you have my support."

"It will not make up for what happened," he said sadly.

"No, that's true," she agreed with equal sadness.

He sighed again. "I'll tell you when I need you."

He left the house on his own and Hawke lingered, glaring at Flora as the woman held her back with a gesture. She moved to where Hawke had seen the bow and picked it up. "This belonged to Sebastian's grandfather. He should have it, but I don't think he will accept it from me."

Hawke took the bow and nodded to the woman before leaving without a word. She was definitely telling Mother to never have the Harimanns over for tea.

 

When Hawke went the next day to check on Sebastian in the Chantry, he was leaning over the pulpit and looking rather thoughtful. She approached him with the bow over her shoulder and he sighed as he felt her approach. When he glanced at her and realized it was her, he sighed again. "I had hoped prayer might cleanse me of the desire demon's touch, but I still hear her voice so clearly. I feel like I've bathed in filth that will never come off."

Hawke patted his shoulder as she moved to lean beside him, her elbow close to his on the stone railing. "Wash behind the ears. Evil usually gets stuck there."

After a small smile he said, "The demon didn't lie. I used to be bitterly jealous of my brother. I wanted to be prince. Now, everything he had is mine. And he lies in ashes. I keep asking myself, 'Do I want this because it's right, or simply to have what I never thought I could'?"

"Aren't you your parents' heir?" Hawke asked with a frown, tugging her tunic back up over her shoulder.

"I'm the youngest son of three. My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold. They put me in the Chantry to prevent my competing with my brothers."

"You seem very dedicated to the Chantry. You were put there against your will?" Hawke asked with a hint of shock in her voice.

He shrugged, his arm brushing hers and knocking the tunic back off her shoulder. "At first. But it was the best thing that could have happened. I was a wild boy, a shame to my family. The Chantry made me a man." Somehow Hawke was convinced what made him a man was whatever he had done before entering the Chantry, but with a small smirk, she kept her lips shut and continued to listen as he smiled sweetly. "It' odd. When I wanted to rule, I would have been terrible at it. Now that I might be decent, I don't know if it's the right thing to do."

Hawke nodded and thought about what the demon had said. "It's the wisdom not to want power that lets you use it wisely."

"You didn't feel what that demon stirred in me," he said standing straighter but still leaning his palms on the stone. "It cannot be right to lead any army to Starkhaven with such doubt in my heart." He paused and sighed. "I owe you more than I can say, Hawke. I will offer my service to you here before I move on." He tipped his head slightly and she stood to face him, her shoulder still exposed.

"I can think of a few services for you to perform..." she purred, brazenly smirking in his direction.

"What? Why are you smiling like...?" His face suddenly turned a bright red and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He reached up and awkwardly smoothed his hair. "Oh. Oh, my. That's... not what I meant. I..." he shuffled his feet and returned his gaze to her as she stifled the little snicker at his flustered reaction. "I think I need to pray. A lot."

He moved to back away from her but she stopped him with her understanding chuckle, figuring out what her new favorite pasttime might be. "Wait... I think this is yours." She unslung the bow from her shoulders and presented it to him.

He approached her again and took the bow from her hands. "My grandfather's bow! But... where did you get it?" he asked as he ran fingers over the wood.

She shrugged and told a white lie, hoping that here in the middle of the Chantry, the Maker wasn't listening. "One of the Flint Company men did some looting. I figured I'd return the favor."

"Thank you," he said softly. "It's... hard to mourn the loss of a thing while my family lies dead, but I did think of it."

She saw the small pain in his eyes as he stared at the bow. "Were you and your grandfather close?"

Sebastian smiled, lifting his gaze to her. "He was a man of the world... Prince of Starkhaven... but he had the most unshakable faith in the Maker. When my parents threatened to pledge me to the Chantry, he told me he'd gladly trade his title for a life of contemplation. 'The Maker ordained a place for each of us,' I remember him saying. 'We have only to serve'."

"So what's the story behind the bow?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"As the youngest son, it was my place to lead Starkhaven's militia, but I never had a talent for swordplay. Too much getting hit," he chuckled softly. "My grandfather said the bow is the wise man's weapon. You can defend your city without opening its gates. Grandfather said the day I could pull the string on his bow, it would be mine."

"Then why didn't you have it with you?" she wondered, plucking gently at the string herself.

"I was thirteen when my grandfather made me that promise. I would rise at dawn to practice my shots until I could hit the eye slit of a helmet from the top of the ramparts. But... my parents pledged me to the Chantry before I could show him."

As his tone began to get sad, Hawke reached out and smirked, patting his shoulder. "You can't shoot your family at a charging bandit and stop him dead between the eyes."

Sebastian actually let out an amused snort of laughter before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you hold nothing sacred, Hawke? Still, I'll stop dwelling on what can't be fixed and appreciate this gift you've found for me. I look forward to testing it." She left him with one last pat to the shoulder as he smiled at her, testing the string's resistance with practiced ease.

 

Since she had begun to see revenue from the Bone Pit, Hawke had made a point to go once a week out to the mine and check on the workers. Hubert was practically a slave driver, and if not for her adjustments to the salaries, they would have no workers at all. Her presence kept morale high. Between that and maintaining her other little odds and ends jobs, and helping Anders in the clinic, she spent the next year finding things to keep herself busy.

On one such occassion, she was wandering Hightown and decided to pay a visit to Fenris. It had been a full week since she had seen him and she was starting to miss their reading lessons. She let herself in as she had become accustomed to doing and perked her ears up when she heard Isabela's voice coming from the sitting room. She wandered in saw Isabela cradling a drink in her hand and sitting across from Fenris, her legs crossed. "So the seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around again, like you asked. Funny story..."

Fenris glanced up and one of his taunting smirks flashed across his face when he noticed her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her hip cocked with her own smirk on her face. "I'll pass, but thank you for the help."

Isabela stood and cocked her own hips. Hawke could picture the lopsided grin on her face as she said, "Spoilsport. Why you want to squat up here in Hightown is beyond me."

Fenris laid another look on Hawke and said, "I like the view."

Isabela's hips flipped to the other side and she chuckled. "So do I..."

She turned and met Hawke's eyes, sauntering past her with a seductive wink before making her way from the mansion. Hawke watched her leave and when she returned her attention to Fenris, he was sitting and staring into the distance. "Three years," he sighed as Hawke moved to sit where Isabela had been just moments before. She slouched down in the seat and picked up the empty glass to refill it from the bottle that stood on the table beside it. She listened closely as he seemed to slip into melancholy. "There's still no sign of Danarius." So that was why he was still in the mansion... "I'm beginning to wonder if he's finally given up."

"This is his mansion, isn't it? He must know you're here," Hawke said taking a sip of the drink and then swirling the rest in her glass as he turned his eyes on her. They did their usual once over that made her skin tingle and she shifted.

"Would you be surprised to learn that it isn't, in fact, his mansion? It belonged to a Tevinter merchant, one who has evidently given up on the place. Perhaps he's dead," Fenris shrugged. "Perhaps Danarius killed him. Either way, if Danarius is aware of my presence, he has done nothing."

She grinned at him over the rim of the glass. "Don't tell me you're going to miss all the attention."

He returned her smile, barely lifting the corners of his lips. "Tell me," he asked thoughtfully, sitting forward. "What do you do when you stop running?"

Hawke set the glass back down on the table and sat up from her slouch. "You take a breath and look around... start anew."

"I don't know how," he admitted sadly, lifting his hand to gaze with anger at the white trails of lyrium beneath his skin. "My first memory is of receiving these markings, the lyrium being branded into my flesh. The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before I became a slave... It's lost." He stood abruptly and stepped away, his back to her. "I shoudn't trouble you with this. My problems are not yours."

She chuckled softly. "I might be able to help with your problems... or give you a few more," she added seductively.

A short exhalation and a smile escaped him as he turned to her. "Only a few?"

"It depends if I really work at it," she shrugged, picking up the drink and sipping it again.

"Tempting..." he mused. "You're a beautiful woman, Hawke. Is there no one else who has your... attention?"

She ignored the question, setting her drink down with a thunk as his voice played on her libido. Things with Isabela were great, but there were some things only a man could satisfy, and Hawke had been itching. "I... didn't quite catch that first part."

He chuckled again as his eyes swept her body. "I don't need to repeat the obvious, I'm certain. I'm an escaped slave, and an elf, living in a borrowed mansion. None of these things bother you?"

She let out her own breathy laugh. "And I'm an apostate refugee. Does that bother you?" she countered.

"You have me there," he conceded. "You raise an interesting point. I'll have to... consider it."

Hawke shifted in her seat as he tugged again on her libido. Then she stood and cocked a hip. "Then I will leave you to your considerations. Don't forget we're due at the Bone Pit in two days."

"I'll be there," he agreed with a grin and she turned and left before she told him to screw his considerations and then screw her.

She shuffled back to her house and when she arrived, Aveline was waiting for her in the foyer. It was a surprise. It felt like it had been forever since Aveline had been in her house. Usually with as busy as the Captain was, she only saw her at the Hanged Man for Wicked Grace. She led her into the common room where Alfie greeted her happily. "You've settled in nicely," Aveline commented as she looked around at what Hawke and Leandra had done with the place.

Hawke shrugged, moving to take a glance at her messages where Bodhan had left them on her writing desk. "It's just luck... and skill."

"Indeed," Aveline agreed with a smirk, her armor clanking as she also shrugged. "Still, more coin never hurts, right?... Say, if someone wanted to pass some work your way...?"

"So, how can I be of service this time?" Hawke said with a chuckle, still looking over her notes.

"Someone's trying to be a guard. Poorly," Aveline said with a sigh. "Remember Emeric? The templar? He wants your help and some sort of official sanction."

"Official sanction?" Hawke asked, her brow raising in curiosity as she turned to lean her rear on the table and listen more closely.

"For his 'investigation'. He's convinced that every random murder in the past few years is connected, and he won't be quiet." She rubbed her forehead as if it were giving her a headache.

Hawke shrugged, kicking a foot out and crossing her ankles. "It seems like it should be easy to prove if there are bodies."

"Kirkwall isn't the safest place. That doesn't mean everything terrible is related," Aveline scolded. "There's no sense to that. Can't be."

"You don't think it's worth investigating?" Hawke crossed her arms.

"I have," Aveline insisted. "He even convinced one of my lieutenants to raid the DuPuis Mansion. Nothing there. You wouldn't believe how much ass I had to kiss after that. Bloody hobbyist constable," she grumbled with a sneer. "Why can't he spend his declining years building a boat or something?"

Hawke sighed and pushed away from the table to punch one fist into the opposite palm. "Muzzle the geezer. Got it!"

"I would never say that!" Aveline gasped. "But if it leads somewhere genuine, I'll pick it up on your word. If he shuts up, that's good, too." She turned to leave, her busy life calling her away almost as soon as she'd gotten there. "He's in the Gallows. Thanks, Hawke. I appreciate it."

Hawke took a bath and donned her armor to visit the Gallows. It had been some time since she had needed to head over there and she was not completely looking forward to it. She trekked over alone, knowing that it was a simple conversation. If she needed back-up, she could always drag a few friends along later. She found Emeric standing guard outside the building and she also spotted Cullen who shot her a small smile as she passed. When she was done with Emeric, she felt the need to catch up with Cullen if he was still around.

"Hello, Emeric," she said as she approached him "The guard Captain says you're still chasing disappearing acts."

"That's not funny," he grumbled. The years had not improved his sense of humor. "I need your help, urgently. I've spent the past few years continuing my investigation into the murders of Ninette, Mharen and the other women. I believe I finally have a suspect, a man called Gascard DuPuis."

"DuPuis? That's a funny name," Hawke mused with a smile, more to get under Emeric's skin than to actually make fun of the name.

His lip curled. "It's Orlesian. I believe he is descended from nobility. When I became convinced of his guilt, I went to the city guard and demanded that they do something. The guards raided his mansion and found nothing. They were forced to apologize, and I was reprimanded. Meredith forbade me from continuing my investigation, but she didn't say I couldn't seek outside help."

"I retrieved a sack of human remains for you. Didn't you show it to the guard?" Hawke asked, crossing her arms.

"I did. They said the remains could've been gathered together by scavengers looking for bits of gold and jewelry," he growled, his fist clenching. "They said there was no way to tell if the remains even belonged to the missing women. I had no choice but to continue the investigation on my own."

"And I'm supposed to be the 'outside help'?" she asked with a sigh.

"My hands are tied. I can't do this on my own. What if one of the women who died was someone you loved?" he begged. "If Gascard DuPuis is guilty, he must be stopped before he kills again. We _have_ to try."

"Why is it always Hawke to the rescue?" she wondered aloud.

"I can't really answer that. You'll need to go to Gascard DuPuis' estate after nightfall. Please figure out what DuPuis is hiding. If he's innocent, find evidence to prove me wrong. It's just that simple."

With a nod, Hawke left Emeric to stew. He seemed convinced, and it had been bothering her after they found those bones, but it had been a dead end. She sighed and made her way over to Cullen who actually smiled widely at her. "Hawke! The new scion of the Amell family... Congratulations." He willfully took her hand and shook it. "I knew an Amell once." His tone changed as he clung to her hand, making Hawke cock her head in curiosity. "She was a special woman. Never met her like again." he seemed to think fondly for a moment before dropping her hand and saying "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Without Anders to scold her, she smiled and said, "Is there anything I can help the templars with?" Doing him favors might increase the liklihood of her freedom continuing. He seemed to like her.

"You're kind to offer," he said, his lips cocking in a crooked grin. "but after what happened with Tarohne three years ago, the Knight-Commander had closed ranks. Our own men undergo weekly questioning, and she's eliminated all work with outsiders. It's hard to keep recruitment up enough to maintain our numbers." He shrugged and then rubbed the back of his neck.

"I keep hearing about the Knight-Commander. When do I get to meet her?" Hawke asked boldly. It was one thing to hear about the woman. Hawke was both anxious and nervous to see for herself just how crazy Meredith might be.

"I'm afraid she's become more reclusive since you came to Kirkwall, Hawke. These last three years, especially, she's been very suspicious of outside influences." He sighed. "I almost wonder if something happened."

Hawke pressed her lips together. "It's been good to see you, Cullen. Be well," she said and then turned to leave as he bid her farewell.

If she was going to DuPuis' mansion after dark, she was going to need help after all. She headed down to Anders' clinic where she found him talking with Isabela. Again, Isabela left, pocketing something he had given her and Hawke chuckled as she approached him. "I don't want to know."

Anders looked her up and down as the doors closed behind Isabela and she felt the pull of mana as he switched off his lanterns. He moved away from Hawke and toward his desk where she swore it was getting ready to crack under the pressure from the endless piles of papers that he was always scribbling. Her stuffed cat still stood watch as he sat down and leaned his head in his hands. "Things just keep getting worse," he sighed. "I had templars practically on my doorstep the other night."

"The templars are hunting you?" she asked in shock, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

"Not me specifically. They were just checking the refugee camps," he said lifting his head to set a reassuring half smile on her. "But it's not like this place is a secret. It's only a matter of time."

She leaned heavily on the desk and breathed out a half chuckle. "Don't tell me these things. I might have to lock you up to keep them off you."

His grin slipped into a genuine one. "Sweetheart, I'm not letting anyone lock me up. You included." After they shared a small flirtatious smile that still gave her hope after all of the rejection, he sighed again. "The Knight-Commander is out of control. Even her own people have been talking about it. The curfews. The midnight raids on mages' families. Everyone I know, forced into hiding so they won't be made tranquil." His fists balled and his expression pinched as he swallowed.

She moved closer, rounding the desk to put her hand in one of his, loosing the fist. "If they want you, they'll have to come through me."

He cocked his body in the chair so he was facing her. "You're at as much risk as I am." His thumb found her knuckles and began to rub gently over them. "That's what I worry. What if your money and position aren't enough? What if the Knight-Commander turns on you? Everything I've done to control this... I don't care. I would drown us in blood to keep you safe."

She let out a breathy chuckle as her heart raced in her chest, her earlier conversation with Fenris all but forgotten. "You don't think we should start with flowers? Jewelry?"

He dropped her hand abruptly and crossed his arms. "If that's the man you're looking for, you're in the wrong place." He sighed again. "There will be more violence. I know that. If you tie yourself to me, I'll only hurt you."

"You keep saying that," she said, reaching out the hand he had been holding and tracing a finger down the side of his face. "You haven't yet." Her tone was suggestive.

He took the hand back and pushed it away gently. "I never thought I'd meet another mage like you. Another apostate. Don't tempt me. Not unless you're ready for what that means." With a final squeeze, he stood and dropped her hand again, moving past her to go into his room and close the door behind him.

She lifted the hand, balling it into a fist and hugging it to her chest. She could feel her heart through her armor, thumping rapidly. Finally, she inhaled a breath, not having realized she had been holding hers until it became hard to ignore, her chest constricting. Then she turned and fled. DuPuis could wait. She needed time. She let herself into her home through the cellar entrance just outside his door and sullenly made her way upstairs.

She needed to find a way to forget her inescapable attraction to Anders. It was a torment for both of them. She could see it in his eyes, each time she pushed. He hated turning from her. She checked her messages again and noticed that she had a very important sealed scroll. The letter was from the Viscount and she opened it quickly to find that it was an invitation to speak with the Viscount as soon as she was available. "No time like the present," she sighed, tucking the invitation in her coat and heading out for the Keep.

Inside, she was ushered to the Viscount's office and he was waiting patiently, speaking with Seneschal Bran. Bran was standing over him as Dumar sat with his forehead pressed to his fingertips as he listened. "The compound was not meant to be permanent. There are concerns that the Qunari influence is... no longer contained."

"Was it ever?" Dumar said, sitting up as Bran eyed her with a frown. "Kirkwall has tension enough betwen templar and mage, but these Qunari..." He pushed himself from the seat and began to pace. "They sit like Gargoyles waiting for Maker-knows-what, and everyone goes mad around them. Nearly four years I have stood between fanatics. And now this..." he looked down at a missive on his desk with scorn.

"Don't keep us in suspense," she said as he glanced at her.

He crossed his arms and set a glare on Bran. "Leave us." Bran politely made his way from the room and shut the door behind him. Dumar sighed and hung his head. "Meredith at my throat, Orsino at my heels, and a city scared of heretical giants. Balance is held because the Qunari ask for nothing. Even the space in Lowtown was a 'gift' to contain them." He uncrossed his arms and rounded the desk to stand before her. "But now, the Arishok has requested you. By name. What did you do?"

Hawke shrugged. "I can't help it if I make an impression."

"Apparently not," Dumar scowled then turned from her. I remember how you helped my son. It seems you are meant to have influence above your station. Speak to the Arisok. Give him what he needs to keep the peace. Can you do that for Kirkwall, Serah Hawke?"

"Any idea what I can expect?" She asked carefully.

"None. Honestly, I don't think I've heard two direct words from the Arishok. Other than his rather deliberate phrasing of 'Begone'. If you think his asking me to notify you of this is strange... Well, you would be right."

"I'm always willing to assist," she said with a shrug.

"That is an attitude this city has lacked for a long time... Appease the Arishok. Take his demand and let him return to dormancy. As awkward as this has been, it is better than the alternative."

Dumar let her go and she paused in the Keep, heading over to say hello to Aveline even though they had just spoken. She was talking with one of her guards, the door open, so Hawke waited. When the guard passed her, she headed in. Aveline gave her a welcoming smile before her expression fell again. "You'd think the Captain of the Guard could requisition a templar or two, but no, that would be demeaning. Can't have them working for the people when eternity needs a nanny."

"That's why I remain unimportant," Hawke chuckled. "Less pressure." She pointed out the frown creasing Aveline's brow.

"As if the return of the Amells hasn't set Hightown on it's ear," Aveline huffed shooing Hawke's accusing finger.

"As long as it's off it's ass," Hawke said with a sigh as she plopped onto Aveline's desk. She often wondered how long it would take for Aveline to just bring a chair in for her to sit in when she came, but then it had occurred to her that Aveline enjoyed the routine of shooing her from the desk. It was a little thing they shared and Hawke smiled as she was yet again shooed from her seat.

"Sure, have your fun, but the coin you poured into Kirkwall tipped what balance there was."

"Grouse all you want," Hawke teased. "But the Aveline I know doesn't regret a second as Captain."

"They'd have to drag me out of here," she agreed with a grin. "And I'm sure some are lining up to try. You among them, I bet. Haven't had much time to follow you around. Not that I need to. I can trust that you at least try to do right."

Hawke waved a dismissive hand as she finally got up from the desk. "Don't soil my reputation."

Aveline snickered. "I'm with you if you need me, Hawke. Just say the word."

 

Hawke left the Keep and passed her house to head down through the Markets to Lowtown. Varric was the safe bet to take with her to see the Arishok. Once he was with her, they headed to the Docks and the Qunari at the gates let her pass without delay. She approached the ramshackle throne where the Arishok was already sitting and the image of him as a gargoyle brought an amused grin to her face. "Serah Hawke," he said, as if tasting her name for the first time.

"Yes?" she asked, wondering what it was he wanted from her.

"Last we met, I did not know your name. Did not care to. You have changed your fortune over the years. The Qunari have not..." What did he want? Financial advice? Hawke cocked her head. "I offer a courtesy, Hawke. Someone has stolen what he thinks is the formula for Gaatlock.You will want to hunt him."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "Excuse me, but this sounds like quite the feat."

"It was allowed. The stolen formula was a decoy... Saar-qamek... a poison gas... not explosives. A small amount is dangerous enough for your kind, but if made in quantity, perhaps by someone intending to sell it..." The Arishok shrugged his huge shoulders.

"That merchant... Javaris?" Hawke guessed, realizing why the Arishok had asked for her.

"Would he be cautious, or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district? A courtesy, Hawke. You will want to hunt him" The Arishok repeated.

"Any idea where we can find Javaris?" Hawke asked Varric over her shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I heard about a sell off. Merchant territories and such. They don't do that unless someone left in a hurry. I'd have figured he rooked some noble. He's sure not a burglar..."

"Just tell me where he is..." Hawke chuckled.

"I haven't kept up on the squirt," Varric shrugged. "Ask the Coterie."

She turned back to he Arishok who nodded. "Panahedan, Hawke. It will be interesting to see if you die."

She shuffled from the Qunari keep and glanced at Varric. "Was that a vote of confidence or does he want me dead?"

Varric shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Shall we gather the team?"

Hawke sighed. "I'll go get Fenris and meet you at the Clinic?"

Varric patted her elbow. "Will do."

They split and Hawke went to Fenris' mansion for the second time that day. "I thought you didn't need me for another few days," he said, as she again let herself in.

"Something came up with the Qunari. I could use your blade," she said with a grin.

He nodded and gathered his things, taking in her armor. "You're still wearing the gloves I got you."

She shrugged and touched a bare finger to the leather of the opposite hand. The gloves left her fingertips exposed so she could grip her staff better. "Yes, well, they're warm." She smirked.

"I'm sure," he said with a smirk of his own as he passed her, leaving a trail of his scent for her to float after.

 

Anders was content to pretend nothing had happened as they followed Varric through Darktown, and with Fenris at her side, Hawke kept her own feelings under wraps. It was a dance she knew well. Varric led them to where the Coterie were holding the sell off and Hawke approached the woman carefully. "You're selling the assets of Javaris Tintop?"

The barker smirked and said in a much softer voice than the one she had been using to bring in customers, "We are. Limited districts, limited contracts. Keeps territory clear and seperate from the start. He had a meager lot, but he skipped with dues outstanding, so up it goes."

"Sounds like he's made a few friends. Can one of them point me his way?" Hawke asked, studying her nails casually. She knew how to deal with these people. Athenril had trained her well.

"Ask that 'bout anyone else, I'd have you thrown out," the barker warned. "This one, he owes me, too. Javaris left in a hurry. I'd put him at Smugglers' Cut, if he's avoiding patrols. It empties at a cave outside town." Hawke knew the passage, had used it herself a few times. She nodded a thanks and the Barker caught her arm. "Tell him I said, 'don't come back'."

Hawke led her group to the hatch in the ground around the corner. Anders chuckled as they walked. "Javaris doesn't exactly sound like a mastermind at work, here."

"I guess we'll find out," Hawke grunted as she lifted the hatch.

They all climbed in to the dark tunnel and she closed the hatch behind them, burying them in more darkness. She heard two small taps on the ground and Anders' staff blazed to life. "How did you know about this place?" he asked conversationally as she led them from memory through the spider infested caves made up of abandoned mine shafts.

"You met me in the days after I worked for Athenril. I got into the city by working for a smuggler. I was sure Varric had told you," she glanced at the dwarf in question who shrugged.

"Your business isn't mine," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Of course not. Not until it's necessary to make me into a tavern story," she said jokingly.

"Exactly," he agreed.

They followed the caves out to the entrance to the coast just outside the city and were imediately set upon by hired guards. In defense of themselves, the guards were killed and Hawke approached Javaris who was cowering by a small camp fire. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Hawke asked, crossing her arms.

"You?!" Javaris gasped getting to his feet. "Granny's garters, she would hire _you._ I can't buy a break on discount! You know what? Go ahead. Take my head and pike it back to that sodding elf. I need the rest."

"What in blazes are you talking about?" Hawke asked, knowing nothing about any elf.

"You don't know? Then, what, you're tracking for the Qunari?" Javaris asked, just as confused as she was. "Then she did it, that elf got them after me for nothing. Bitch-born..." he grumbled.

"The obvious thief was perhaps a bit too obvious," Anders said with a smirk.

"Look," Javaris began to explain. "I'm minding business, same old, and out of the blue, some elf tries to kill me. Says she's got the Qunari powder and I'm her cover. I slipped her, hired some bodyguards and ran for it. And now you're here. Great."

"So far, all I see is you," Hawke pointed out, glancing around for effect.

Javaris sneered. "Leaving the other person behind is the first step in running away. Sorry if that's inconvenient." He paused and handed her a paper. "Here, you want to drag dark into light, I had a man follow her. The elf's in Lowtown. I just want to get out. With my dead guards. Thanks for that."

Hawke nodded and pocketed the information. "Sounds like you have a long way to go. Hopefully..." she shrugged.

"Right, got me a rosy future to plan out," he said sarcastically. "Think I'll start by selling some boots," he indicated the bodies all around and turned from Hawke in anger then began grumbling under his breath as she headed back for the caves. "Sodding bunch of... take a long breath on a short shaft... blasted dog-lord in-roaders..."

His cursing petered out as she got further away. "We need to get back to the city before this goes really wrong," Anders said in warning.

They hurried back through smuggler's cut and came back up in Darktown where they quickly used the fastest route back into Lowtown. The street where Javaris had told her that the elf was hiding out was crowded with people arguing with a lone guard who was trying his best to keep people away. "All of you, I can't fight the damned air! You want to live, stay out!"

"Yes, stay out!" Hawke warned the crowd as she brazenly walked past the guard. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

The guard stopped her with his arm in front of her chest. "Wait, Messere, Hawke... Maker, please, the street is death. There was a cloud that drove people mad, and now a seeping mist that kills. All I can do is warn people. If someone like you dies on my watch, I'm right stuffed."

"Well... Hold your breath," she said with a smirk as she pushed past his arm, lifting the triangular mask that she had previously used to hide her identity and hadn't used in years. She still kept it on her person and it was going to come in handy now.

"But... shit," the guard cursed as she wrenched open the gate he had closed to keep the street sealed off.

She and the others headed down into the green tinted air of the street and even with the mask, she could feel her lungs already burning as she breathed shallowly. "Maker," Anders coughed, covering his own face with his arm. "We won't last long in this. Find the source."

Hawke glanced around and followed the slow puffs of air. She realized that the mist was coming from several barrels that were cracked open all around the street. She knelt by the nearest barrel and hunted for a latch that would close it. Finding nothing, she cursed and stood just as an arrow blazed past where her face had just been. "Sweet Maker," she jumped back and grabbed her staff. Fenris was already running for the threat, his sword trailing behind him. All around the street, mercenaries were falling in from the balconies above. They fought like mad men, throwing themselves with loud cries at Hawke and her people. Hawke panted, trying not to breathe in too much of the burning air. Then she shouted, "They obviously had something to do with this. Search the bodies for the latches to these barrels." Fifteen agonizing minutes passed as it became harder and harder to fight with her lungs on fire. They successfully found the latches among the corpses in between killing the seemingly hundreds of men pouring from the sky. When she gripped the final latch and Fenris helped her twist the barrel closed, she ripped the mask from her face and inhaled, waving her hand in front of her face and coughing as she blew the remnants of the fog away from her. Anders slipped his hand around her arm and she felt his magic caressing through her to purge her lungs of the poison. As she coughed the last of the smoke out, he healed the others as well.

Suddenly, an elf appeared at the opposite end of the street, her face marred and sickly looking, veins creeping out of sallow cracked skin. She cocked her head at the devastation and Hawke moved around the dip in the center of the street to face her. "So... your fault. I presume?" she asked, her voice haggard.

"Is that? Serah Hawke! You have enemies..." the elf said in a whispering growl. Hawke glanced at her companions who shrugged with as much surprise as she was feeling. "I'm glad it's you, really. These poor people. You are a much better target!"

"So, care to explain your particular brand of crazy?" Hawke asked, clearing her throat again.

"Qunari take my people! My siblings forget their culture, then go to the Qun for purpose. We're losing them twice! So I get help from your people. We'll take the Qunari thunder, make some accidents, and make them hated! But this... this is all wrong," she whimpered, looking around again at the devestation in the small city block.

"You were going to kill people anyway? That's... not funny at all, really," Hawke said, rethinking the humor as she got angry at the elf.

"It can still work. They are hidden in your city. They'll enrage the faithful, and make sure the Qunari are blamed," the elf growled. "Me? I'm finished. I just need a few more bodies. A few more..."

The elf attacked, but she was so far gone that killing her was as easy as Varric pulling Bianca's trigger as she ran at Hawke. Her followers were just as bad off. When they were dead, Anders sighed. "I guess it's time to tell the Arishok he was right... and wrong."

Hawke assured the guard that in a few hours when the gas dissipated from the air that they should get some people in there to clean up the bodies and dispose of the barrels, but it would be safe. Then she headed to the Qunari compound, the others still trailing behind her. "So I was wrong about our thief," he said by way of greeting. Apparently he had spies.

"You'll get used to it," Hawke shrugged she was ready to go home and relax. It had been a particularly busy day compared to how she had been living as of late and she was tired.

"They say we were careless with our trap, that this is our fault, but even without the saar-qamek, there would have been death. This elf was determined to lay blame at our feet," the Arishok grunted, sitting back from his forward lean. "Selfishness, want, denial... how do you allow this to continue?"

Hawke was not interested. "If you won't talk straight, then we won't talk," she turned on her heel and started away from him.

"Hold," he growled and she turned back to face him, crossing her arms. From the look on his face, he was not used to being turned from. "Since we arrived, I have seen nothing but greed and weakness. Dwarves, humans, elves... just... festering... No order, no goal. You are one of the few I have met with any ability, and yet this too was random, a result of selfishness. I cannot fathom how a mire like this can be justified." He swept his hand before him, encompassing the entire city with a gesture. "You turned from me. Do you turn as easily from all this... chaos?"

"Why would anyone want to change it?" She asked with a shrug.

"You... like it?" he asked with his lip curling upwards in disgust.

"It's a city of people living their lives, for good or ill," she explained.

He cocked his head and stood to indicate one of his guards. "Karasten are soldiers. The Qun made it so. They can never vary from that assigned path, never be other than they are meant to be. But, they are free to choose within that role. To accept and succeed, or deny and die. Glory is clear and defined. You allow chaos for 'good or ill', but one is clearly superior. Can you see how that certainty would benefit this whole city?"

Hawke's stomach clenched at the subtle threat in his words. "Sorry, I find myself distracted by 'deny and die'," she said coldly, cutting her eyes at him as he paced.

"And yet you accept the random violence that plagues this nation," he grunted. "I wonder if the weaker of your citizens would be so closed to certainty." He turned and slowly made his way back to his throne and sat. "Your kind may force our role to change, if the Qun demands."

"That 'weak' elf made a good effort at using your own weapon against you," Hawke said, unwilling to let it go as he clearly tried to dismiss her.

"We have but one weapon... the certainty of the Qun. It cannot be used against us," he said confidently. "And it doesn't matter. I am not here to fight. I am her to satisfy a demand you cannot understand."

"It's taking long enough," Hawke retorted under her breath, aware that he could still hear her regardless.

"It will take as long as needed. No ship is coming. There is no rescue from duty to the Qun. I am stuck here," he growled.

"You could have built a ship by now, you know," Hawke said, her tone full of snark.

"It is not about a ship! Filth stole from us! Not now, not the saar-qamek, years ago! A simple act of greed has bound me." He stood slowly as he continued to rant, his voice rising. "We are all denied Par Vollen until I alone recover what was lost under my command! That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant! That is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city! Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun! And you should all be grateful!!" He ended his speech at the edge of the top of the stairs as if he were ready to charge down them and yell in her face. Then as if stung, he turned and calmly retook his seat. "Thank you, human, for your service. Leave."

Hawke stomped from the compound her anger flaring. "He's on edge. The Viscount should know," Anders said softly.

"He will know. But not tonight. I'm going home," Hawke grumbled. For some reason, the Arishok knew exactly how to get under her skin. He would not threaten the city that she had made a home in. "I'll see you all for the trip out to the Bone Pit."

She quickened her pace, leaving the others behind and practically jogged home. She briefly greeted her Mother before heading for her room.

 

She didn't feel any better the next morning as she headed out for the Keep. She had sent a note over the night before with Bodhan for the Viscount, giving him the rundown and promising a more thorough report in the morning. She kicked a pebble as she made the short trek up the stairs to the Keep from her front door. Dumar greeted her with a weary sigh. "Years of nice, quiet anxiety... gone. Along with a whole street."

"An accident on purpose... more or less," she said with her own sigh as she dropped into a chair in front of his desk.

"Right... a mad elf, pushed by zealots, likely hidden in the very groups I have to appease. The Maker has a grand sense of humor." He moved behind his desk and leaned heavily on it, his palms flat. "And the Arishok... I suspected he had no plans to leave... I didn't know it was just as annoying for him."

Hawke picked up a knick knack from the Viscount's desk and fiddled with it. "You could send him gold and he'd complain that it was heavy," she intoned.

"And it's about to get worse," he said as she leaned back and propped her boots on his desk. He gave little more than a sideways glance at her presumption that it was all right to do so and continued. "A shame... there were overtures of civility. Your influence no doubt."

"Do I want to hear what happened?" she asked, quirking her brow.

"A Qunari delegate and entourage paid me a visit. It was civil, tentative. Hopeful." He began to pace behind the desk. "They left my chambers with precision, but were not reported by the outer guard. They are missing almost literally from my doorstep. What do you imagine will be the Arishok's reaction?"

Hawke shrugged, the knickknack flashing in the light from the windows that was pouring in. "Do the Qunari generally keep you updated?"

"Qunari do not disappear," Dumar insisted. "They know we watch, and they are not shy about their movement. Speak to Seneschal Bran. He has details that show how damning this is." The Viscount was nervous. A nervous Viscount made for an unstable city. Hawke sighed, sitting forward, dropping her feet to the floor and placing the knickknack back on the desk exactly how she had found it.

She got up and bade the Viscount farewell before leaving to find Bran. "You have information about the missing Qunari?" she asked him as she barged into his office and he looked up at her from behind his desk.

"I am to help you, yes. Viscount Dumar would appreciate discretion in this matter. _I_ would prefer that you were not involved at all, but that is neither here nor there." Bran said with a sneer.

She was tempted to make herself at home in his office like she had the Viscount's, but she needed his information and had a feeling he was not as accepting of her casual demeanor. She crossed her arms instead. "It sounds like you don't want them found."

Bran folded his hands before him, elbows resting on the desk. "I must think of what is best for the Viscount's office. Bringing attention to such an incident benefits no one."

"You would do nothing?" she gaped in astonishment.

Bran sighed as if he were talking to a child as he explained. "The Qunari are neutral hostiles at best. There is no relationship to salvage by... overextending ourselves on their behalf."

Hawke rolled her eyes and asked him anyway. "So where would you start? If you were the starting type."

"I would begin with the most obvious failure. It's clear the city guard has no excuse for allowing this. Unless they were involved," he accused. "Not coincidently, a number of recent recruits have failed to report. You should start with one of them. Although where you'd find a swordsman so eager to sell his honor and duty, I'm sure I don't know."

Hawke nodded. "The Hanged Man."

"Right... then you know what to look for. I can't imagine this has occurred without notice. There is always a weak link," Bran said his lips pursed as he picked up a quill and went back to work. "Please keep this quiet. The Viscount is under enough scrutiny as it is," he called after her.

Outside the Keep, she was making her way for Lowtown when she bumped into Anders. "There you are. I was looking for you," he said with a smile.

"For me?" she asked in surprise as he turned and fell into step with her. "What's the occassion?"

He shrugged, the feathers of his pauldrons catching on the wind and fluttering gently. "It's early, and you're always bringing me lunch. I thought I might buy you breakfast. Bodhan said you had gone to the Keep when I tried your house."

She chuckled teasingly. "If you think that buying me breakfast is going to make up for all of the times I've brought you lunch, you're sadly mistaken. Many, many more favors are required."

He chuckled softly. "It's a start, right?"

She shrugged. "I was on my way to the Hanged Man anyway. I have a sellsword to confront." Hawke was mildly suspicious as to why he was all of a sudden going out of his way to do something for her. In spite of that suspicion, her heart began it's clamboring inside her chest. She walked beside him, simply enjoying this presence and the soft hum of his magic. He was such a claming force in her life. Even if he didn't see it, she was grateful to have him, in any capacity.

 

Hawke was standing over the cowering guard having only had to throw a few punches to get him pleading for her to stop. She cracked her knuckles ominously and he threw his arms up over his head. "Feeling a little friendlier?" she asked.

"What... what do you want? I just did what he said. It was more coin than I've ever seen," he whimpered.

"Come on," she said with a feigned pout. "Someone so generous, they deserve recognition."

"Templar. It was a templar. I didn't get the name," he admitted. "We met near the Chantry. He... he said taking these Qunari was serving the Maker. I swear, he even had the seal of the Grand Cleric! True is true!"

Hawke backed away and waved him off. The guard got to his feet and rushed out of the tavern as she turned to Anders who had been listening in, and Isabela and Varric joined them. "Great! A templar?" Anders muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Serving the Grand Cleric, no less. Great..." Varric hummed, apparently having over heard as well.

Isabela cocked a hip. "I would pay coin to watch Hawke throttle that rat again," she chuckled. "Lovely show, poppet."

Hawke flashed her a grin. "I suppose this means I need to go follow up on this." She turned to him and smiled. "Anders, raincheck?"

He shrugged. "I suppose breakfast can wait. I'll tag along if you want me though."

She nodded and invited the others as well. Isabela declined, not wanting anything to do with the Qunari, but Varric tagged along. Once they reached the Chantry and stepped inside, Anders frowned. "So, a drunk says the Grand Cleric funded zealots through a rogue templar. This is enough evidence for you?"

"Don't forget the kidnapped Qunari. That too," Hawke said as she fixed her approach on a young sister kneeling nearby.

"Hey, it's not like the templars are going to like me no matter what I do," he agreed with a casual shrug.

She paused in front of the sister and said, "The Grand Cleric, please. Tell her... Tell her, 'three Qunari leave an estate...' and let her finish."

The sister disappeared and after a few minutes, a familiar face appeared where they were waiting. "Serah Hawke..."

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "Sister Petrice..."

" _Mother_ Petrice," she corrected snidely. "Time has changed us both. Grand Cleric Elthina cannot grant an audience to just anyone. What do you want?"

Hawke crossed her arms and scowled. "Funny how you and issues with the Qunari seem to go together."

"And you always assume their side," Petrice accused angrily. "I was naive when last we met. I did not want you dead, but I felt _a_ death was necessary. That may be too fine a point for you to understand, but you must admit, you came out the better for it."

"I know you, and I know someone is abusing the Grand Cleric's seal," Hawke said casually, trying not to allow her tone to become too combatative in the middle of the Chantry.

"Who are you to question who serves Her Grace? I am sorry, but I see no reason to let you pass," Petrice said angrily.

"How about the fact that her authority was used to abduct Qunari?" Hawke retorted. Petrice simply frowned, her eyebrows knitting together as she pursed her lips. "A pause that says you knew. But does Her Grace?"

"The Grand Cleric trusts her stewards to enact the wishes of the Maker," Petrice said with a practiced tone. Hawke wondered how many times she had said it in a mirror before she believed it herself.

"It sounds like you've been bad. This will shock Her Grace, no doubt," Hawke taunted.

Petrice looked away and grumbled. "Stubborn..." Then she set her gaze back on Hawke. "All right, Serah Hawke, if you won't abandon this, let me offer you something. The templar you seek is a radical who has grown... unreliable. Confronting him may do us all a favor."

"And his relation to you is...?" Hawke led.

"He is my former bodyguard, Ser Varnell. Assume what you wish, but I offer him to you as... reconciliation. Meet me at this location. I invite you, Serah Hawke. Come see the unrest these Qunari have inspired." She handed over a small slip of paper to Hawke and it was like deja vu.

After she left them standing before the pulpit, Varric cleared his throat noisily and tapped the paper in Hawke's hands. "That's a set-up."

"It's her game, for the moment," Hawke said with a sigh, knowing Varric was right.

 

"Why does everyone in this city insist on having secret meetings in tunnels? Surely there are better places," Hawke said as they followed Petrice's directions.

"I don't know," Anders said climbing off the ladder and stopping beside her as he looked around. "Nice place for a rally. Good choice, Varnell."

"Petrice is here somewhere," Hawke grumbled, starting in the direction that she heard voices coming from.

"Wonderful," Anders grunted, following close behind.

They came up on a group of armed citizens, congregated round Varnell as he preached. The three Qunari were bound to poles. They had obviously been beaten and stripped of their weapons and armor. "Like any beast, remove the fangs and it is lost. They are weak before the faithful of the Maker. The only certainty in their precious Qun is death before the righteous." He hauled off and used his gauntleted fist to punch the nearest Qunari in his face, drawing blood from his lip and a sneer from his face after he shook off the shock.

Before Hawke could intervene, Petrice came out of nowhere. "Ser Varnell!"

"Take a knee, faithful!" Varnell said as Petrice approached the group, stopping nearer to Hawke and her people. "The Chantry blesses us!"

"You claim a blessing when you have used the authority of the Grand Cleric so openly?" Petrice accused, beginning to pace and circle Hawke like a shark. Hawke narrowed her eyes. "You have brought wrath down upon you. You remember Serah Hawke?" Hawke's lip curled back. Petrice was using her, setting her against Varnell on purpose to start an uprising over the Qunari. "The Qunari have friends, templar. How will you answer their allegations?"

As much as it felt like falling into Petrice's trap, Hawke could not help standing up for the Qunari. They were innocent in this. "You want a fight? Face someone whose weapons _aren't_ bound," She threatened, taking her staff from her back and twirling it, readying her stance.

Anders spoke up, his voice an angry growl. "Templars are cowards. They only pick on those whose lives they already hold in their hands."

Varnell turned back to the Qunari and dramatically pulled a knife, setting it on the Qunari's throat and cutting it open. As he moved to the other two, he shouted, "Righteous! Destroy them!"

Petrice fled, turning and running back in the direction she had come and Hawke was left to clean up the mess. The Qunari all slowly bled out as the mob of zealots rushed her and her friends. She was surrounded in seconds. She called on her mana, but was not fast enough. As soon as she fired off the mind blast and knocked the crowd away so she could back up, the templar's Smite slammed into her like a charging bull. She heaved, dropping to her knees as the mana left her and took the air from her lungs along with it. She had enough strength to wind herself into the fetal position as she gasped for air and the mob recovered to rush her again. Out of nowhere, Fenris stood over her, the scent of lyrium pouring from him as his tattoos flared in a burst of energy that sent several of the citizens reeling and clutching their chests. The rest, he swug his sword at, leaving a circle of death around them as she gasped for breath. With the attention drawn from her, he knelt, while Varric and Anders handled the flow of faithful as they poured in from wherever Varnell had posted them to guard the area. "What do you need?" he asked, his voice thrumming through her like a bass drum.

"Lyrium..." she gasped softly, reaching for her stash that she kept in her belt pouch. He shook his head and she watched him slip into his wraith form. His semi visible hand found it's way inside her chest and the lyrium in his veins poured into her core. It exploded her senses, fireworks crackling in front of her eyes and she sucked in a gasping breath. He was careful not to pour in too much and fry her nerves as could happen if a mage ingested pure lyrium. He jerked his hand free when she bolted into a sitting position, her chest heaving. "Sweet Maker!" she breathed, her hands already seeping with small electric sparks.

"Better?" he hummed with a smirk.

"Much... Where is that bastard?" She looked past Fenris as she got to her feet, her staff unnecessary. Spotting Varnell waving his sword in an attempt to send another smite at Anders, she drew back her palms and gathered the magic that seemed to unwravel from her core and was swimming all around her body. It burst forth from her fingers in a thick bolt of lightning that resounded around the cavern with a deafening boom of sound as it struck Varnell dead. It arched of it's own volition, thinning as the echoing claps of the dwindling bolts made a symphony among the screams of the terrified victims, hunting each of them down and frying them where they stood. Looking down at her own palms in surprise, she carefully gathered the wild magic and spindled it back where it belonged. "Do you feel like that all of the time?" she gasped as Fenris continued to smirk at her.

"I would assume it is different for a mage, but the level of power is the same," he said.

She bent to pick up her staff and was careful to not allow any of the excess to bleed off into the focusing object lest she crack the wood or shatter the crystal. "Well, color me jealous." Then she moved to the center of the room where the Qunari bodies were slumped on their pillars. "All right. Time to bring this mess to the Viscount's attention."

About an hour later, they were standing among the bodies of the mob and the guard was swarming all over the area. The Qunari had been cut from where they were propped and laid on the ground. The Viscount stood in the middle of it all, his face slack and surprised. "Madness! Madness!" he gasped.

Hawke stood to the side, her arms crossed and her hips cocked as she, too, took in the scene. "That's a word for it," she agreed.

"Chantry involvement..." He shook his head and twisted his upper body to face her. "Even if they are fringe elements. It could not be worse." He made a disgusted noice in his throat and turned back to the corpses.

"The Chantry has seen the abuses the templars get away with," Anders growled. "Why would they not think to do the same?"

The Viscount was silent for a moment, studying the destruction and shaking his head. Then he turned to Hawke again, his weary eyes falling on her. "You killed them... all of them?"

"A mother serving the Grand Cleric allowed this to happen," Hawke informed him. Petrice had crossed her for the last time. She would be known.

"Are you quite sure? She held a blade with them? Told them to fight you?" he gasped in horror.

Hawke shuffled her feet. "No, I cannot say that," she admitted.

Dumar sighed. "Of course not. A blasted Mother... You have no idea the storm these allegations would cause. It would destroy what support I do have."

"I have had trouble with her before. She is... slippery," Hawke said with a scowl.

"I understand," he said calmly then crossed his arms. "I will make my inquiries. Gently. And you should be careful in your associations. For now, we have other problems." He glanced over at the Qunari bodies. "We have the delegate, but... I can't return the bodies to the Qunari in this state. Serah Hawke, you know the Arishok. What should I do?"

She shook her head at his desperate tone. "Hiding this would only make it worse."

His eyes widened before he sighed again. "It would, wouldn't it? I am losing my sense of how to balance this nightmare." He rubbed his forehead and turned back to her. "I appreciate your help in this matter. As bad as this is, it could have been much worse without you. Kirkwall owes you. _I_ owe you." He held out his hand in a gesture of thanks and she took it, shaking it swiftly. The Viscount was a good man in a bad position. She felt for him.

 


	10. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke takes a trip to the Fade for a familiar face, and hits a few snags. Slavers catch up to Fenris.

Isabela had shown up that evening and they had fooled around for hours as Hawke worked off the lyrium buzz that Fenris had given her. Her fingertips were still tingling as she laid beside Isabela and the pirate stretched languidly on top of her sheets, her dusky skin a gorgeous contrast to the white. Hawke admired the view, even as her heart slowed and a small knot formed in her gut. "Hey, Izzy..."

Isabela glanced over at her and took note of her lip caught between her teeth and smiled softly. It seemed like she knew what was coming, but she rolled to her side and propped her head on her elbow to listen. "Yes, poppet?"

Hawke sighed and reached to tuck some hair behind Isabela's ear, baring her face. "I... I don't think we should do this anymore... I'm sorry, I..."

Isabela's finger rose to touch gently to her lips, stopping her apology half formed. "Hawke, you don't need to apologize. We're not in a relationship, remember? You can't hurt my feelings. I've seen you struggling with your own feelings though. Is there anything I can help with? I may not be the best source of advice, but you really should talk to someone."

Hawke took a deep breath. "I wish there was anything to talk about," she exhaled the breath in a heavy sigh.

Isabela smirked and stood from the bed. "Tell you what... let's raid your cellars and we can trash talk all the men in Kirkwall for being piss poor stupid and ignoring you."

Hawke chuckled, getting up herself and pulling on her housecoat. It was a dark red color that blended perfectly with her pale complexion, a Wintersday gift from Merrill the year before. She tied the sash and Isabela slipped back into her clothes with practiced ease. The silky fabric flowed against her thighs as Hawke moved. The robe was short, but it was extremely comfortable. "I think that sounds like a marvelous plan."

When they left the room and headed down to the common room, Hawke noticed a letter on the desk that had not been there when she had gotten home. She shooed Isabela ahead as she paused to read the note. It was from Arianni. She had not heard from the woman since she had allowed Feynril to go to the Dalish. With a frown as she tucked her robe tighter around her, she read the letter.

_Greetings,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I've often thought of you in these past three years. Without your kindness, my Feynril would have been long since sold to slavers. Instead, he has thrived and begun to master his magic. But now his nightmares have caught up with him, and neither the Keeper nor the First Enchanter know how to help. I don't know where else to turn._

_Please, come to my home in the Alienage. I will be waiting to speak with you. Thank you again for the compassion you have shown Feynril in the past._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Arianni._

Isabela was reading over her shoulder with a bottle in her hand, reaching around Hawke to place it in her hands. "Are you going to go?" she asked.

"In the morning," Hawke nodded. "I've been reading about Somniari in a Tevinter text I got my hands on. If Feynril manages to get possessed, it could spell a lot of trouble. Although I don't really know how much help I'll be."

Hawke placed the letter back down on the table and held the bottle before her to see what Isabela had picked out. "It was the strongest thing I could find. Have you been letting your mother stock your cellars?"

Hawke shrugged. "I've been busy."

 

With short notes to the others to meet her in the Alienage, Hawke dressed in her armor for appearances sake and headed to meet with Arianni. Arianni opened her home to Hawke when she arrived with her three helpers in tow. "I was hoping you would come. You've done so much for my Feynril already, but... I visited him among the People, but he turned me away. I know the demons still plague him. And now they've taken him," she said, beginning to sob as she offered Hawke a seat. "Two days ago, Feynril went into a nightmare and hasn't returned."

"Surely there are mages who can pursue him in the Fade," Hawke said softly, wondering again why Arianni believed she could help when the Keeper and the First Enchanter could not.

"I have contacted Keeper Marethari. The Dalish have an ancient ritual that might help. But it requires someone Feynril trusts to enter the Fade to free him."

Hawke's brow knitted together. "So you're, what? Hoping I can yell really loudly in his ear?Maybe give him a good shake?"

"I'm hoping you can reach him.You made a strong impression when you rescued him from the slavers. My Dalish friends tell me he speaks of you all the time," Arianni said with a smile. "The Keeper says Feynril's powers are a throwback to ancient magics that once let elves shape the Fade. The only way to reach him is through his dreams."

"Fade's a big place, you know. Got any landmarks?" Hawke wondered.

"Marethari is coming to perform the ritual that will bring Feynril back. His childhood things here will help anchor him. Are you willing to submit to her magic to save my son?" Arianni pleaded.

Hawke grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Ooh, It's not often you get to 'submit' and still come out the hero."

Arianni cocked her head. "Does that mean you'll do it? Oh, thank you!"

"The Fade, huh?" Varric asked with one brow raised. "Don't know how much help I'd be to you there."

"I've already called for the Keeper. We need to begin the ritual as quickly as possible. Would you like to stay here, or return when she arrives?" Arianni asked.

Hawke smiled and took Arianni's hand. "This is too urgent to delay."

Arianni dried her eyes with her free hand and squeezed Hawke's hand. "You have been far kinder than I had any right to expect."

Marethari arrived about an hour later, the elves of the Alienage paying respect to her as she passed, bowing and practically groveling at her feet. She smiled at them each in turn as she made her way to Arianni's house. Once she was inside and settled, she looked between Hawke and the others before speaking to Arianni. "I came quickly, Arianni. I did not wish to tell you by letter how grave your son's situation is. The magic he possesses makes him what the Tevinters called 'somniari'... a dreamer. Dreamers have the power to control the Beyond, what humans call 'the Fade'. Feynril is the first in two ages to survive."

"Why are they so rare?" Hawke asked in shock. Her book had not mentioned that little fact.

"Dreamers have great power in the Fade. They attract demons. Luckily, most prove too frail of mind to survive a demon's possession. A dreamer abomination would be near unstoppable," Marethari explained.

Hawke didn't need to hear anymore. "Just send me into the Fade."

Arianni smiled widely. "I told you her courage was legendary."

"Now, Arianni, please excuse us. We must prepare," Marethari requested sweetly, her smile never wavering.

"Oh, of course," Arianni stuttered and bowed her head.

Marethari led Hawke gently by her elbow into the next room and lowered her voice. "There is more I must tell you that is not for her ears."

Hawke cracked a grin and teased, "You're really not my type."

Marethari frowned and pursed her lips and suddenly Hawke knew what Merrill was talking about when she mentioned the 'disappointed glare'. "This is a serious matter. Feynril cannot become an abomination. The destruction he would cause is unimaginable. If you cannot save him from the demons, you must kill him yourself. A death in the Fade will make him what your Circle calls 'tranquil'. He will be no threat after."

Hawke hated that option, but she understood. "I will not let him become a danger," she promised.

"I wish you luck," Marethari said and moved off to prepare the ritual.

Anders took hold of Hawke's arm as she prepared and Hawke turned into his concerned expression. "I worry what a journey to the Fade might bring out in me."

Fenris also joined the circle, followed by Varric. "I have no desire to explore the Fade, but if you need me, I will go."

Varric shrugged. "I admit... I'm a little fascinated."

Hawke gave them each a reassuring pat and Marethari finished marking the floor with chalk. She set a few of Feynril's things around the circle and had Hawke and the others lie down inside it. "It's like a slumber party," Hawke said with a chuckle.

As Hawke felt the magic begin to slip over her as Marethari chanted, Anders' hand found hers and clasped it tightly. Her eyes closed as she blinked and when they opened, they were no longer in Arianni's house. "Shit," Varric said softly. "This is the Gallows."

He and Fenris moved ahead and a deep inhalation at her side drew her attention. "I had not thought to return in such a way. It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, not the empty air of your world."

His voice was deep and gravely and his skin cracked as the glow of the spirit seeped through. Hawke gasped, realizing that she was no longer speaking to Anders. "Does that happen every time you're in the Fade?" she wondered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch his face where Anders' beautiful honey eyes had been replaced by the blue glow of Justice.

The spirit looked at her, twisting Anders' face into a frown. "I am Justice. Anders has told you of me. Come. I sense Feynril's mind straining. We will not have much time." He walked away from her without a backward look.

She sighed, rolled her eyes and followed. Through the door ahead, they were spilled into the main inner courtyard of the Gallows. Hawke had never been inside the converted prison, but it was just as cold and unforgiving as she had imagined. A wide set of stairs led to the front gates and a shade like demon floated toward them. Hawke warily allowed the creature to approach, her mind already working out the pros and cons of using the demon should it offer help. The ruse had worked in the Deep Roads, no reason it shouldn't work here. Merrill always said you could use demons if you were careful. It slithered up in front of them and spoke. "Well... it's rare to see two forgotten magics in one day. It's usually a slow place, the Fade, not many surprises. I wasn't sure I would like this one... but it has potential."

"A demon of sloth," Justice growled from just behind her. "It exists to make men forget their purpose and their pride... Do not relax around it!"

"Call me Torpor," the demon offered in a hum drum tone as Hawke sized it up. Killing it looked to be an easy thing, but it might have information she would need. "I have a proposition that might interest you."

"Speak, but I promise nothing," Hawke said carefully.

"I trust you are here for the mage, Feynril? Two of the most powerful demons in this realm are vying for control of him. Sadly, I'm no warrior. I couldn't stand up to them. But if I did, I'd only want the boy's power to secure my position in the Fade."

"Don't listen to him!" Justice interrupted. "Sloth demons prey on your trust!"

Did Justice think she was stupid? She attempted to communicate with her eyes her intention to Anders, but apparently Justice was in control for the moment. She sighed and looked away from the spirit to the demon. "I'd be no threat to your world," it said slowly and pointedly.

"So, if I help you possess Feynril, you won't attack Kirkwall?" she mused equally as slowly.

"We are drawn to the mortal realm to merge with a living soul. Once I've done so, what need will I have for your people?" it reasoned. "I merely want power against my own kind."

Hawke was certain the reasoning would be sound to anyone who hadn't already figured out that a demon was a demon no matter what it said. "This is a monster!" Justice shouted angrily, making Hawke cringe. "It asks you to sacrifice an innocent to its ambition!"

"Ignore this tiresome little spirit," the demon said with a casual wave of it's clawed hand. "I ask only what it has already taken, a willing merger with a human host."

"Do not work with this creature," Justice demanded before scowling at Hawke. "I will stop you..."

"Don't fight me on this!" she growled through gritted teeth. How could he not see what she was doing? Did he think she was that naive?

"My kind and this have been opposed since the beginning of time... This is a creature of complacency! Of injustice! I cannot let you treat with it!" he growled.

Hawke felt the pull of the Fade around her as Justice geared up to attack her. Hawke panicked. A death in the Fade meant tranquility for Feynril. If she was forced to kill Anders...? She couldn't think about it. She raised her own barrier as he lashed out at her with a winters grasp. The weak barrier she had summoned was no match for Justice. Her body seized and it was like she had been trapped in a blizzard for days. Her skin was frigid and her teeth chattered. Fenris went into a frenzy, rushing Anders and punching him in the face as Varric stood in place, gaping and trying to figure out who he should be helping. Hawke managed to draw her own mana to the surface and dispel the ice from around her. Then with a knot in her stomach, she lashed out, her fury rising to the surface. The lightning bolt crackled in the air as she closed her eyes and struck Anders down. She swallowed the sudden wave of nausea as it spread from her core when she opened her eyes and Anders had disappeared in a puff of smoke. The information Torpor had most definitely better be worth what she had just gone through. She shuddered and turned on the demon, praying Anders would be okay.

"What human wanted to merge with a prig like that?" Torpor wondered. Shaking its head, it sighed. "Where were we? Ah, right! Fabulous powers, yours if you deliver me the dreamer. Are we agreed?"

Nothing in the universe was worth what she had just done, her hands shook as she nodded. "Teach me all you know, and I will take your deal."

The demon's body shimmered and shook, it's skin cracking to show the red spirit behind the visage. "Signed and sealed," it said.

Fenris looked at her with disgust. "And another falls prey to temptation."

Hawke ignored the jab as Torpor settled itself and pointed. "Use those doors to enter the other parts of Feynril's nightmare. You will take on the forms of something he dreams. Gently guide him out of temptation... if you disrupt him too quickly, his mind will snap. Bring him to me and power beyond dreams will be yours."

Hawke smirked, understanding how to save Feynril and nodded. She quietly led the others to the first door, wishing she could tell Fenris her plan, but she didn't trust that Torpor couldn't hear. As she stepped inside, a hum of magic enveloped her and Varric and Fenris were barred from entering, disappearing in a flash of light. Hawke looked down at herself and she was wearing the robes of the First Enchanter. Her body was not her own and she glanced around as a scene played out before her. Feynril was standing with Keeper Marethari, surrounded by several other ethereal Dalish. "My people," Marethari said. "I present to you... our hope. His features may mark him as human, but in his heart beats the blood of the Dales! He came to us to learn his heritage, to release the power from a lineage as ancient as our race."

"I... I don't know what to say..." Feynril stumbled over his words.

Hawke stepped forward and the voice from her throat was deep, that of a man. "This is a trick."

"First Enchanter?" Feynril asked with a frown. "What are you doing here? Mother told me the Dalish are honorable! Why would the Keeper lie?"

"Why would she entrust her people to a human?" Hawke asked, crossing not her arms.

"You are one of us, Feynril. Your magic will restore our greatness," Marethari said, mild desperation in her tone.

"But... you told me this magic was outlawed for a reason. Even the Dalish don't practice it anymore," Feynril said confrontationally.

Hawke interjected again. "Could the elves trust you with the power to shape reality?"

"I..." Feynril began with a shrug.

"Could you trust yourself?" Hawke prodded.

"Don't listen to him," Marethari said. "The First Enchanter is trying to keep you from realizing your greatness."

"Trying to keep me from temptation, just like you were. You're not the Keeper! Begone, fiend!" Feynril shouted and ran away.

"You!" The Keeper shouted. "Why did you interfere?" The bright light flashed again, blinding Hawke for a moment. When she could see again, The Keeper was replaced by a demon of Pride. Hawke was back in her own skin and Fenris and Varric appeared at her sides again looking mildly confused. "With my power joined to his, Feynril would have changed the world!"

Hawke grunted. "Have you ever seen an abomination? They are ug-ly."

"You put such stock in appearances?" The demon wondered. "Perhaps that is why your friends' loyalty only goes skin deep. You think this slave would choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon," Fenris growled stepping up to Hawke's side and swiping his arm downwards. "I won my freedom from the magisters long ago."

"But you fear them still... They have left their marks on your body and your mind. With my aid, you could be free forever. You could have power enough to challenge any who would chain you," the demon offered.

"How transparent can you get?" Hawke asked with a nervous chuckle. She knew that Fenris still struggled with his past.

"But... to face them as an equal? I..." Fenris looked at her with dismay. The demon had sunk it's claws into the one thing that might turn him from her. "What... would you want from me?"

Hawke's stomach clenched again as the demon glanced at her. "A moment of your time, nothing more."

Fenris turned his deep green eyes on her and they narrowed. Before he even reached for his sword, he was disappearing in a cloud of fog as Anders had, Bianca clicking back into firing position. Hawke let out a shout of emotion. She was not certain exactly what she was feeling. She knew the Fade was designed for temptation and demons could see every single working of your mind if they wished to exploit it. Still, she mourned. Were Fenris and Anders alive? Were they whole? She lashed out in anger, the firestorm she conjured destroying the demon and all of the whisps that had been posing as clan elves. She jumped when Varric's hand found her elbow. "Come on. We still have one room left."

Hawke sullenly made her way to the second room with Varric hoping that she would not have to strike down her best friend. That might just break her usually indomitable will. Again she was replaced and Varric vanished. She stepped into a room furnished with a desk where a young blonde haired boy sat, scribbling on some parchment. Leaning over him was Vincento. "That's it, Feynril. Hard on the downstroke, then lift. Good! I'll have you scribing all my letters soon. If I'd known you were such a bright lad, I'd have brought you into the business years ago."

"Does that mean I can come with you to Antiva, father?" Feynril asked hopefully. "Mother said maybe this summer..." he glanced at her. "Right, Mother?"

"Your father never wanted anything to do with you. Don't trust him," Hawke said, Arianni's voice leaving her throat.

"Why are you lying to me?" Feynril asked, looking up at Vincento.

"Don't listen, son. She's always been ashamed of you," Vincento begged. "She wanted you gone so she could go back to the Dalish. I'm the one who loves you."

"But... why can't I remember you?" Feynril asked, his small brow wrinkling.

"This is a trick, Feynril," Hawke said gently. "He wants something from you."

"Why...? That's right! I spent my whole childhood waiting for you."

"Your mother never allowed..." Vincento began, but Feynril cut him off.

"My mother loves me! She showed me the letters she wrote you. You never wrote back. And it was Mother who taught me to write, not you! I've never met you before! Who are you?" Feynril stood from his seat, his fists balled.

"Don't... question..." as it spoke, the illusions disappeared and the demon was revealed, Varric reappearing with a shake of his head. "...me!" Desire, Hawke noticed as Feynril turned and fled with a shout of fear. "You... you turned him against me."

"Complete accident... I was trying to help. Honest," Hawke said sarcastically.

"You have cost me a dreamer, but at least you will provide me a death!" The demon shrieked and attacked, swiping it's long claws at her. It was unexpected and Hawke stumbled backwards, tripping over Varric. They both tumbled to the ground and Hawke panicked as the demon came at them. She pushed her hands forward, her fingers calling a ball of fire that rocketed at the demon. It caught fire and shrieked again as Hawke untangled herself from Varric and they got to their feet. He pulled Bianca as quickly as he could and loosed a bolt at the flaming demon. With a wail, the demon disappeared.

"Andraste's ass, are you okay?" he asked, brushing Hawke off.

"As all right as I can be considering the circumstances," she cringed, her thoughts returning to Anders and Fenris. "Come on. We need to get to Feynril before Torpor."

She jogged from the room and back to where they had first come in. Feynril was standing in the middle of the courtyard, his hands on his head. "What's happening? This is still the Fade!"

Torpor circled him, not bothering to even try to trick him. "Hush, son. The Fade isn't all bad. You're safe here."

Hawke ran up and crossed her arms. "Wait, I know you. You saved me from those slavers. Are you a dream?" Feynril asked.

Hawke shook her head. "You have the power to leave the Fade. Open your eyes!" she urged.

"Don't tell him that!" Torpor raged getting between her and Feynril. "Do not think you can betray me, mortal! I will have this dreamer."

Hawke was ready for the attack. This demon had cost her Anders. The overcharged spirit bolt slammed into the demon's chest and it writhed in agony as the spell ate it alive. When it fell and disappeared, Feynril was left staring at her. "I not sure if this is real. If so, it is the second time I owe you my life." He hugged himself, looking around. "The Fade feels different now. I see the stitches, the seams holding it together. I feel I could wake at any moment."

"Dreamers control the Fade and the dreams of people in it," Hawke explained softly. She had sacrificed more than he knew to save him, but it wasn't his fault.

He tipped his head. "I see why the Chantry fears us. I've heard tales of magisters who stalked their enemies and used their own dreams to destroy them. You're right. I must master it, find someone to study under. The Dalish do not have what I need. Perhaps Tevinter. If these powers can be trained, it would be there."

Varric hummed in thought. "This is a far cry from the sniveling boy we pulled from those slavers. He may be ready."

"My mother would not look kindly on such a journey. Can you give her my farewell?" Feynril asked.

"May the Maker guide your path, Feynril," Hawke said, steeling herself for the worst when they woke.

"Perhaps... there is a way out of this." He turned and faced the stairs up into the Gallows. Rolling his shoulders he said, "I can do this."

Feynril lifted his hand and the world around them began to dissolve. It was like waking from a deep sleep. Hawke breathed evenly as her mind returned to her body. When her eyes fluttered open, relief cascaded over her as she sat up and saw both Anders and Fenris sat on Arianni's small couch and looking irritated at being so close to one another. Anders' eyes narrowed at her and she smiled sweetly, glancing between the both of them. She could not even be angry that she had been betrayed. She was too relieved that they were all right. She stood up and helped Varric to his feet. Arianni rushed into the room, her eyes wide and questioning. "Feynril has mastered his powers," Hawke said, her throat dry.

"Then he lives? You saved him? I cannot thank you enough!" Arianni reached out and pulled Hawke into a tight hug. When she pulled away, she looked to the Keeper. "Keeper Marethari, may I return with you to the Sunderlands? I would like to ask for my son's forgiveness."

"Of course," the Keeper said with her own smile. "It was you who chose to stay away."

Hawke gripped Arianni's arm to explain. "He must go elsewhere to train. There is no one in Kirkwall to help him. He asked me to say goodbye."

"My son! No! I must find him before he goes," Arianni gasped.

"It is wise for him to seek guidance. Kirkwall cannot provide what he needs," Marethari said gently, laying a calming hand on Arianni. Then she turned to Hawke. "I truly did not think what you did was possible. You are a rare human, indeed."

Fenris stood from the couch. "And I must apologize for my weakness. I would have thought myself above such influence."

"I find there's nothing like being possessed to keep you on the straight-and-narrow," Anders said snidely, his narrowed eyes still boring holes in Hawke.

"Your friends awakened here some time ago," Marethari explained. "We all have weaknesses the demons find. You accomplished a miracle with Feynril..." The Keeper knelt and pulled something from the pack she had brought with her. "This book belonged to the last dreamer of our tribe. It has a rare magic beyond price. Please accept it with my gratitude."

Hawke took the book and could feel the power humming inside. It had been a long time since she had felt such power from a book. She nodded and excused herself and the others so Arianni could prepare to go with the Keeper. As they left the house, Hawke kept her mouth sealed, feeling Anders' anger and Fenris' shame pouring from them both. They were going to need time. They all separated without a word, Varric patting her on the arm before heading to the Hanged Man.

 

Hawke gave Fenris a few hours before she shuffled her way to his mansion. Instead of just letting herself in as usual, she knocked. He came to the door and gave her a once over before stepping to the side and letting her in. She followed him to the sitting room where he handed her an already poured drink, like he had been waiting for her. She sat down, but he remained standing, the bottle held by it's mouth between his fingers. He sighed. "I have been thinking about what happened in the Fade. I apologized for my weakness, but the more I think about it, the more I believe you are also to blame." She took a gulp of the drink, averting her eyes as his own steely gaze fell on her and she sank into the chair. "Why did you take me into the Fade? We should have hunted the boy's body down and killed him."

Hawke knew she never would have done that, but her mask of sarcasm fell over her and she rolled her eyes as a defense mechanism. "Might you have mentioned this brilliant plan earlier?"

"You are strong, Hawke. But not all mages are like you," he admitted, clenching his fist around the neck of the bottle. "I simply hope we don't all regret the day you learn just how true that is."

For once, she had not a single witty retort. Living in Kirkwall, she had seen exactly how weak most mages could be just for a small amount of freedom. What would she do if backed into a corner, her freedom or the lives of her friends on the line? She had no answer, so she quickly downed the rest of the drink and held up the glass for more. He poured it for her and then sat across from her where he always sat, rigid and nervous. She picked up her right leg and rested her ankle on her knee, her foot twitching with her own nerves. She had just gotten to a place with him where she was starting to believe he trusted her and that they might have something good if he would let her in. Chasing her heart when it came to Anders was a disaster, just like he kept telling her, and she desperately wanted to forget how she felt and move on. She could see herself falling for Fenris and his stupid broody stare. She had earned his trust over the years, but it was a fragile thing.

They sat in silence for quite some time, each of them mulling over their own thoughts and sharing the bottle. It was not an unfamiliar pastime when she visited Fenris and she lost herself in the routine. Finally, he returned with a fresh bottle and he showed it to her. The label was familiar. "Last bottle of the Aggregio. I've been saving it for a special occasion."

"What's the occasion?" she asked lazily as he passed her the bottle.

He sat and sighed. "The anniversary of my escape. _Astia valla femundis._ Care to hear the story?"

"I thought you avoided talking about this?" she wondered, sipping from the bottle and handing it back to him.

"Not on special occassions," he replied with a smirk. "There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman." She felt her stomach flutter and she attempted to maintain her relaxed posture as he continued to talk. "Let's see. You've heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries, now. I was there with Danarius during a Qunari attack. I managed to get him to a ship, but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive."

"There's nothing like war for covering one's escape," Hawke surmised as he took a long swig from the bottle.

"I had no intention of escaping. That time," he corrected her. "There are rebels in the Seheron jungles called Fog Warriors. They found me and took me in, nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time. Until Danarius finally came for me."

Hawke nodded as she took the offered bottle, drank and passed it back. "He was relieved to see you'd survived, right?"

Fenris sneered. "Relieved to see his investment hadn't ended up in Qunari hands, perhaps. I'd grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was... beyond my experience." He paused and took another long swig before studying the label that he could now read thanks to her. "When Danarius came, they refused to let him take me. He ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all."

"Once a slave always a slave?" she wondered, feeling his guilt and anguish as it settled on the room.

"It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this... this fantasy life was over. But once it was done..." he hung his head in shame. "I looked down at their bodies. I felt... I couldn't..." he cringed and lifted his eyes to her. "I ran. And never looked back."

Hawke allowed his confession to settle on them and then asked tentatively. "How well did you know these Fog Warriors?"

"I knew them only a few months, but in that time, I felt as if I truly lived," he smiled briefly, taking another long swig. "They were bold. Strong. Free with their affections. I was in awe of them, and owed them everything. And I turned on them, even so."

"Didn't Danarius try to stop you when you ran?" she asked.

"The rebels had wounded him. The soldiers he brought attempted to capture me... unsuccessfully. It was weeks before Danarius was able to mount the hunt in earnest, but by then, I was already gone..."

He handed the bottle back to her and she met his gaze reassuringly. "Gripping stuff. You should write it down."

"You think they teach slaves how to write, any more than they teach them to read?" he grumbled.

She took a gulp of the more than already half empty bottle and smirked at him over the rim. "Baby steps, Fenris."

He took the bottle back when she passed it over and sighed. "I have never spoken about what happened, to anyone. I've never wanted to. You and I don't always agree, but..."

His sentence dropped and he glanced warily at her. "But...?" she repeated urging him on.

"I... have never allowed anyone too close. When my markings were created, the pain was... extraordinary. And the memory lingers." He looked up from where he had been staring at his markings, an interested grin crossing his features. "But you are unlike any woman I have ever met. With you it might be different."

"We could find out," she suggested, crossing her legs and arms as she continued to smirk flirtatiously. The room was swimming around her and his eyes roved her from head to foot.

"On another evening, perhaps," he said chivalrously, then held up the bottle. "A last toast, then. To the fallen." She accepted the bottle after he drank and finished it off.

The peaceful silence fell over them again as they sat in each other's company. She suddenly felt a blanket being draped over her and she hummed contentedly, huddling up where she had curled herself up in the large wingback chair. Fenris said nothing as he tucked her in and her eyes fluttered closed again.

 

They were due at the Bone Pit the next day for her weekly check in. She left Fenris' to go home and get her armor back on for the trek. It was never wise to leave the city without her gear. Fenris seemed to have forgotten all about the Fade incident as he promised to meet her at the city gates at noon. There was another awkward conversation that she needed to have and she quickly dressed and made her way through the cellars to Anders' clinic.

The lanterns were dark. An odd thing for this time of the morning. She knocked softly and after some time and a second knock, Anders finally opened the door. He scowled at her and opened his mouth, but she pushed past him into the clinic. He sighed and flung the door shut, the bang resounding through the clinic. "So," he said, punctuating the outburst. "You've given him sufficient time... Has your demon granted everything he promised?" Before she could answer, he ran his hand through his hair, some of the strawberry blonde locks falling from the tie at the back of his head to frame his face. "I have driven myself mad asking what it was. World shattering power? Riches enough to buy all of Kirkwall? What was worth turning on me? Killing me? Did you even know I would wake alive?" She felt his quiet rage as heat seeped from him and he looked at her, grief stricken.

She stepped up to him and pleaded for him to listen with her tone, speaking quickly so he would understand. "I just played along to get the sloth demon's help. I wasn't going through with it."

"You mean...?" his voice softened as her hands gingerly rested on his chest of their own accord.

"Feynril isn't possessed," she assured him. "I killed the sloth demon. After what it made me do..."

"I don't know what to say," he said, cringing as he took her hands in his to remove them from his chest. "I assumed you lied to Arianni. It's not easy to dismiss the memory of you striking me down." He sighed and dropped her hands. "But I suppose even had I known your plan, Justice wouldn't listen."

The stricken look on his face was killing her almost as much as it had killed her to unleash that bolt of lightning. "Do you need someone to mediate between the voices in your head?" she asked, fighting the urge to brush her fingertips over his creased brow.

With her words, the creases smoothed out and he hummed a single chuckle. "There's an idea. I've stayed out of the Fade since we merged. I don't like being a passenger in my own skin. I suppose Justice feels like that everyday," he shrugged slowly. "Shackled to my body and every decision I make. No wonder it's become a prison for him." He hung his head.

"You know what you need?" she asked lightly, drawing his eyes back to her. "An exciting day out in the countryside."

He chuckled, taking in her attire. "You are so much like your cousin. Solving all of your problems with a stroll through the countryside."

"It's strange to think that you know my cousin better than I do. I've never even met her," Hawke said as he gathered his staff to follow her out.

"You would get along swimmingly," he chuckled as he locked the door behind him. "Or your humor would clash and you would hate each other. I haven't decided which is more likely."

"Don't tell me she's funnier than me. I couldn't take it," Hawke said with a pout.

"Sweetheart, nobody has mastered sarcasm quite the way you have. I would call it a talent, if it wasn't so bloody frustrating that you steal all of the best one liners," he said as he strolled beside her.

She shrugged as she started up the stairs toward Lowtown. "I can't help that you spend more time worrying about templars and scribbling out your manifesto than sharpening your wit." Her tone teased and she cursed herself as she realized she was doing it again. _Stop flirting, damn it._

They continued to the Hanged Man where Varric was already waiting for them. "I'm surprised to see you, blondie. Has everyone kissed and made up already?" Varric taunted.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Hawke said punching Varric's shoulder lightly. "Come on, Fenris is waiting at the gates by now."

 

The air outside the city was crisp as the last dregs of winter blew across the open air from the coast. Hawke slowed her pace, something about the quiet along the road making her uncomfortable. Suddenly as they rounded a bend, they were blocked by a group of armed men. Fenris identified them first, growling angrily. "Hunters..."

From a hill above the road on their left, a voice rang out across the countryside. "Stop right there!" The voice belonged to a man in Tevinter robes, a staff clutched in his hand. "You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now and you will be spared."

Hawke clenched her fists. "Fenris is a free man!" she insisted.

"I won't repeat myself," the man shouted. "Back away from the slave, now!"

Hawke felt the familiar tug of the Fade as Fenris' markings began to glow. "I am not your slave!"

The men blocking the path came in from their side and Fenris spun with his blade, slicing them to ribbons as their hidden reinforcements swarmed from all around. He flicked back and forth through the chaos, turning the road into a bloody mess. Hawke barely needed to lend her assistance, striking down a few stragglers that were lucky enough to make it out of his range. She surrounded the mage in a crushing prison as they fought off the rest.

He dropped when her spell dropped, the last man standing on the field. Fenris quickly stormed over to him and knelt, "Where is he?" he growled grabbing the man by the hair and slamming his face into the ground.

The man grunted as his nose began to bleed, trickling down his mouth and chin. "Please, don't kill me," he gasped.

Fenris quickly slammed his head again. "Tell me!"

"I don't know! I don't know, I swear..." he stuttered around the blood pooling in his mouth as Fenris held his head aloft. "Hadriana brought us! She's at the holding caves north of the city! I can show you the way!"

"No need. I know which ones you speak of," Fenris said with calm anger.

"Then let me go! I beg you! I swear I won't..." the man begged.

Fenris cut him off, his hands wrapping around his head. "You chose the wrong master." He swiftly wrenched his hands and the snap of the man's neck echoed across the now quiet road. Fenris stood, his back to Hawke as he seethed in rage, his fists clenched. "Hadriana..." He turned and his blood soaked face was twisted in hatred. "I was a fool to think I was free. They'll never let me be!"

"This is someone you know?" Hawke asked keeping her own tone level as he breathed heavily, working through his anger.

"My old master's apprentice. I remember her well: a sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius. If she's here, it's at his bidding. I knew he wouldn't let this go!"

"Then why are we standing around?" The Bone Pit could wait. They needed to deal with this threat or Fenris would be in trouble.

"The holding caves held slaves in the old times, but apparently they are no longer abandoned," he agreed. "We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare... or flee."

Fenris led them with the speed of his namesakes, practically jogging through the outskirts of the city. He stopped them near the entrance to a cave where several Tevinters stood guard. Hawke cast her tempest quietly, easily scattering and killing the guards without them even seeing them coming.

They made their way to the entrance where Fenris stopped her. "We must be careful. There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains, where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it's why Hadriana chose this place."

"Maybe she wanted to redecorate... add a few flowers," Hawke said cheerfully.

"She's not a 'flowers' kind if woman," he grunted, the usual smirk she might get from a comment like that not appearing. "Let's hope this isn't a waste of time."

She followed him in and they made their way carefully through the labyrinth of tunnels. There was evidence that Hadriana and her followers had been using blood magic. Hawke could smell it on the air. Near the middle of the caverns, they came across a group of Tevinters threatening a young elf who was cowering and crying loudly, begging for her life.

They dispatched the threat and the girl looked at them with wide, curious eyes, still terrified. "Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Fenris asked, his tone softening.

"They've been killing everyone! They cut Papa, bled him..." she wailed, her voice wavering. Her blonde hair was disheveled, falling out of the bun it was styled in and her overdone makeup was smeared.

"Why?" Fenris wondered. "Why would they do this?"

"It's a demon at work," Anders pointed out. "By this point, there's nothing human left inside."

"The magister," the elf sputtered. "She said she needed power, that someone was coming to kill her." She hugged herself as Fenris hung his head. "We tried to be good! We did everything we were told! She loved Papa's soup. I don't understand..."

"You're just a slave to them," Hawke explained slowly to the girl. "property to be used."

"Everything was fine until today!" the girl insisted.

Fenris sighed. "It wasn't. You just didn't know any better."

"Are you my master now?" the girl asked tentatively.

Fenris recoiled. "No!"

"But... I can cook. I can clean! What else will I do?" she begged.

Hawke understood that letting this girl free to leave would spell her death or eventual slavery again. She smiled sweetly and said, "If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you. Hawke Manor."

"Yes? Oh, praise the Maker! Thank you!" she cried and ran for the exit.

Fenris wheeled on Hawke making her take a step back. "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave!"

"I gave her a job, Fenris!" Hawke argued. There was no way she was going to let that poor girl work for her without pay.

He took a step back and had the decency to look sheepish for his assumption. "Ah, then... that's good. My apologies." He sighed. "Let's find Hadriana and be done with this place."

They found the woman through another labyrinth of passages. She was surrounded by shades and walking corpses, and the entire room held the metallic scent of blood and rotten flesh. "You've made a terrible mistake coming here, slave!"

"Not as much as you have, witch!" Fenris snarled rushing in with his blade.

It was a hard fought battle, stretching Hawke's reserves to the limit as she tried her best to work on crowd control while Fenris slashed his way to Hadriana. Varric was standing near the entrance, sniping as many of the corpses as he could and Anders was doing his best to keep everyone alive. When finally Fenris knocked Hadriana's staff from her hands, tackling her to the floor, Hawke and the others swiftly finished off the stragglers as he held his blade above his head, prepared to take her head. "Stop! You do not want me dead!"

"There is only one person I want dead more," Fenris growled, raising his arms again.

"I have information, elf," she sputtered. "and I will trade it in return for my life."

Fenris scoffed loudly. "The location of Danarius? What good will that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil."

"You have a sister. She is alive," Hadriana gasped, holding her arm up as Fenris' blade began to descend. Fenris' arms went slack as her words hit him. "You wish to reclaim your life? Let me go, and I will tell you where she is."

Fenris looked over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with Hawke to tell him what to do. Hawke shrugged. "This is your call."

He leaned menacingly over Hadriana who had moved to her knees. "So I have your word?" she asked, making Hawke wish she could see his expression. "I tell you, and you let me go?"

"Yes. You have my word," he snarled.

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman," Hadriana spilled the words quickly.

"A servant, not a slave?" Fenris asked.

"She's not a slave," she confirmed.

"I believe you," Fenris said even as his tattoos hummed to life. Hawke watched him reach into Hardiana's chest and a sick squishing sound made Hawke turn her head instead of watching Hadriana fall dead. "We're done here," Fenris said, turning and breezing past Hawke toward the exit, not giving her more than a glimpse at his face. She had no way of knowing what he was feeling.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Her words stopped him in his tracks and he spun to snap at her. "No, I don't want to talk about it! This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows... But all that matters is I finally got to crush this bitch's heart. May she rot..." he spun away. "And all the other mages with her."

"And here I thought you were unreasonable," Anders grunted, drawing a disapproving scowl from Hawke.

She carefully dismissed his words. He was upset. He had just told her the night before that he didn't think she was like the other mages. She slowly placed her hand on his shoulder and softly said, "Maybe we should leave..."

He shrugged her hand off with a hiss and refused to look at her. "Don't comfort me." After taking a few paces away, finally he turned to look at her again. "You saw what was done here. There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?" Something in her expression as he ranted, gave him pause. "I... need to go." He rubbed his forehead and stalked off, leaving her gaping. She took in a deep breath, trying not to let his words hurt her.

 

All of the way back to Kirkwall, she fidgeted as she walked, terrible company for anyone. Varric invited her for drinks, but she politely declined, insisting she was tired from the drain of mana in the fight with Hadriana. She needed a drink, but not one that she would be sharing with anyone else. She pulled off her gloves and tucked them in a pocket as she shuffled up to her front door. When she closed the door behind her, staring at her feet, the distinct smell of petrichor assaulted her senses. She turned and saw Fenris sitting on one of her waiting benches in the foyer. The house was dark, telling her that he had let himself in while no one was home. He looked up as she entered and stood, nervously pacing toward her. "I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana..." he lifted his hand to his face, fidgeting. "I took out my anger on you. Undeservedly so. I was... not myself. I'm sorry."

"I had no idea where you went... I was concerned," Hawke confessed with a shrug.

"I... needed to be alone." He moved to begin pacing as he explained himself. "When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond. And she knew it." The last came out in a growl as he clenched his fists. "The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now... I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"What do you mean?" Hawke asked slowly, trying to understand why after promising to spare her, he had killed Hadriana.

"This... hate... I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again... to know that it was they who planted it inside me. It was too much to bear. Ach..." he turned from her toward the door. "But I didn't come here to burden you further."

She panicked. Reaching out, she grabbed his arm as she spoke to stop him leaving. "You don't need to leave, Fenris."

When her skin met his, his tattoos flashed blue and he spun on her angrily. His hands wrapped around her upper arms and he backed her against the wall. She grunted as her back collided with the stone, and he paused. As he realized what he had done, the glow faded and he loosened his grip, his face falling from angry to apologetic. His green eyes gazed on her with hunger. Before he could pull away, she dipped her head and pressed her lips to his, returning the favor by grabbing him and turning him so she could push him into the wall. His arms wrapped around her, and she flattened her palms on either side of his head, the wall cool against her heated skin. Maker, he was kissing her back... with vigor. She pressed herself against him, and then realized where they were. Her mother could return home at any minute. She broke away from him long enough to unwrap his hands from her waist and back up a few steps, pulling him along after her and then wrapping her own arms around his neck. She guided them blindly through the house and up the stairs to her room. He followed willingly, his hands all over her. They paused at the foot of her bed and, still kissing him, she reached up with one hand to undo the buttons on her coat. After shrugging it off, she moved to artfully undo the buckles holding his breast plate in place. Without her realizing it, her belt fell to the floor and she pulled away from his mouth to look down at the discarded strap of leather. She chuckled as he shrugged and he silenced her with his lips.

She couldn't say quite when she ended up naked, but he shoved her down on the bed. She had a brief and glorious view of all of his tattoos. They swirled along every inch of his skin, reminding her of the branches of a tree as they arched out from the one central vein that ran from his neck all of the way down to his abdomen. The light contrast to his tanned skin was a beautiful thing in spite of the pain they caused him. She allowed her eyes to trail over them before she bit her lip and took in other aspects of his physique. He was trim and lithe like most elves, his muscles standing out like carved marble. Before she allowed her eyes to wander lower, she glanced up at his face where he was similarly studying her. She backed up on her elbows and then crooked her finger, beckoning him to her.

He climbed slowly onto the bed, looking like a cat on the hunt, his movements liquid. He pushed her legs apart and slowly slid his palm up her thigh, brushing his thumb over her groin as he continued higher. She gasped and arched her back, pressing their bodies together and he leaned in to kiss along her jaw. She brought a hand up, twirling her fingers through his white hair and giving a gentle tug. Their mouths met again and she plunged her tongue into his mouth while his wandering hands found her breast. She could feel him, hard and ready, rubbing against her and she shuddered, momentarily regretting not taking a gander at what she was getting herself into. She had been so preoccupied with his tattoos. His mouth found her neck again and hit that just right spot that set her body tingling in anticipation as he breathed warm breath against her now moistened skin. She gripped his arm hard as she gasped, and then let the breath out in a soft and pleading moan.

He took the cue and obliged her, ignoring whatever resistance he met, which was not much in her slick state, and shoving himself deep. Her back arched as she took him in, and her nails dug into his flesh. She hooked her ankles together behind him and lifted her hips to move with him. She took in his frustration as he pounded against her, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply. His pace faltered momentarily and she nudged him, making sure he was all right. He bit down on her neck and continued as if nothing had happened, his tattoos flickering.

She was careful not to trace deliberately over the patterns as she roved her hands against his skin. She knew how he felt about being touched. When they activated and the smell of the earth after a lightning strike filled her senses, she inhaled and moaned. He had her near her breaking point, her body already twitching in anticipation as he hammered away at the dam. He kissed her one last time, drinking her in as he brought her, pulling himself out a split second later, her body bucking beneath him at the sensation of him sliding out as she came, and spilling over her abdomen. At least he had thought before doing something rash. She had been with Isabela so long that she had not taken any preventative herbs in Maker knew how long.

He rolled off of her, falling onto his back beside her, his skin humming beside hers but not touching. He lifted his arms up, placing them under his head. His expression was satisfied, but troubled. Everything had happened in a whirlwind and she hoped he wasn't regretting things. She yawned, the stress of the day catching up with her as her racing heart slowed. He said nothing and she laid beside him, wondering if she should break the silence so long that she ended up dozing off.

When she woke, the bed beside her was empty. A sheet had been pulled over her and she sat up, looking around. Fenris stood by the fire, fully dressed, staring into the dancing flames. She frowned, wondering at his behavior. "Was it that bad?" she asked, drawing his gaze from the fire to her.

"I'm sorry, it's not... it was fine," he said, stumbling over his words. He frowned, and tipped his head as the sheet fell away exposing her. "No... that is insufficient," he ammended. "It was better than anything I could have dreamed."

She sat up all of the way, tugging the sheet around her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Your markings... they hurt, don't they?" she asked, knowing he had denied it before, but he cringed as she asked.

"It's not that," he assured her. "I began to remember. My life before... Just flashes... It's too much, this is too fast, I cannot... do this."

"We can work through this," she said, trying to convey some of the assurance that he was giving her.

He looked stricken. "I'm sorry... I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy... Just for a little while..." He turned away, his head hanging. "Forgive me," he said softly before walking from the room.

She sat there, stunned, unsure that she wasn't dreaming until the front door closed heavily behind him, resounding through the house. She pulled the sheet up over her shoulders and tucked her legs up to her chest, huddling. Had she rushed things when she kissed him? Should she have just let him leave? She sighed and buried her head in the hollow between her knees and chest and let out a frustrated growl, muffled from the world. After a few minutes, there was a soft knock at the door. She frowned and stood, hunting for her robe. She pulled it on, tying the sash and opened the door. The young elven girl they had rescued from Hadriana was standing there, her hands clasped politely in front of her and her eyes averted. "Greetings, mistress," her hands parted briefly as she knelt in a shallow curtsey. She smiled sweetly. "Your home was difficult to find. I've never been out on my own before, but I found it. Many people know of you. I hope I've made myself useful. I've already begun cleaning and I can cook... not as good as papa, but a little. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

Hawke stepped from the room to touch a gentle hand to the girl's shoulder. "What's your name?"

"O-Orana, mistress," she said in surprise, as if no one had ever asked her that question before.

Hawke smiled warmly. "If you're staying here, Orana, it will be as my servant..."

Orana looked up quizzically. "You mean... I won't be a slave anymore?"

"You'll be paid, like anyone else," she assured the timid girl.

Orana seemed to straighten and a smile broke across her thin face. "I... a slave is all I've ever been, like Papa and Grandpapa before me. I'll try to be a good servant. Thank you, mistress. You're too good to me." She dipped into another curtsy and Hawke waved her off.

Hawke breathed in, glad that she could make the girl's life brighter. The inhalation brought the smell of petrichor to her and she grimaced. "Actually, Orana, there is one thing you could do for me."

"Anything, mistress," she said.

"I need my bed linens taken to the launderers. Bodhan knows where it is," she requested.

"Of course."

Orana stepped into Hawke's room and began to strip the mattress. Hawke moved to pick up her clothing that was strewn all over the floor wherever Fenris had tossed it the night before. She sighed, reveling in the dull ache of their joining, but also mourning that it would likely never happen again. Fenris was more fragile than he let on and if something they had done had brought on any uncomfortable feelings, he would likely pretend it never happened and they would never speak of it again. She did not regret that it had happened, though. Orana moved about the room, finding her way around the dressers and linen hutch to remake Hawke's bed with fresh sheets as Hawke planted herself at her writing desk. She flipped through her journal and noticed that Varric had taken it upon himself to add his own embellishments to the more boring entries and Isabela had drawn crude cartoons in the margins. Hawke shook her head and snorted, finding the next clean page and then her eyes falling on the information Emeric had given her. She really needed to get to the DuPuis mansion. _Tonight,_ she promised herself.

 


	11. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in the Circle throws Hawke into a new lover's arms.

Instead of writing, Hawke cleaned herself up and made her way down to the Hanged Man. Isabela was at the bar in her usual spot and Hawke chuckled as she strolled up to stand beside her. "It's like you haven't moved in three years."

Isabela smirked at her out of the corner of her mouth. "It's easier for people to find me this way... Do you remember the relic I told you about? The one I need to find... I've been following a lead. I'm so close I can taste it," she informed Hawke without preamble.

Hawke chuckled and leaned against the pillar holding up the bar. "Isn't that what you said last time?"

"Oh! You mean when I went digging for that stash?" Isabela giggled as well.

"Yes... that turned out to contain several badly written poems and an old boot..." Hawke reminded her, with a smile, remembering back to lying naked with Isabela and reading the poetry and drinking whiskey from the bottle.

"It _could_ have contained the relic," she said with a shrug. "I just thought I'd let you know that I may soon be taking you up on that offer of help."

In spite of their status, Hawke shamelessly smirked and said, "Do I get a kiss from the feisty temptress when I present her with the hard won prize?" Just because they weren't taking alone time together anymore didn't mean that their friendship should change.

"If you want... I'll even let you choose where I plant it," she purred, sliding Hawke a drink. Hawke took the drink and downed it then she sighed. "Something on your mind, poppet?"

"Remember what we talked about with Fenris?" she whispered, glancing around to be certain Varric was nowhere in sight.

Isabela moved closer so she could whisper as well. "Varric said there was a bit of awkwardness yesterday. Something about slavers and Fenris took it out on you and the rest of the mage population before taking off in angst ridden glory..."

Hawke chuckled. "That about sums it up... Last night when I got home, he came by to apologize and well..." Hawke tipped her head and shrugged.

Isabela gasped. "You didn't!"

"We did... and it was glorious..." Hawke said wistfully, spinning the empty mug on the top of the bar as she leaned over it.

"I sense a 'but' coming," Isabela said intuitively as she poured Hawke another drink.

"In the morning, he ghosted me. Something about us together made him remember flashes of his old life and it scared him off," Hawke rested her elbows in the bar and shoved her fingers through her short hair, tousling it.

Isabela reached over and smoothed the rogue hair and smiled. "I'm sorry, poppet. At least you had a chance, right?"

Hawke sighed again and downed the drink, shaking the empty cup and Isabela poured her more. "You were right about the pent up anger by the way," Hawke admitted.

"Tell me everything!" Isabela insisted, pouring herself another drink.

"So long as Varric never finds out," Hawke warned before disclosing anything.

"Cross my heart," Isabela said, miming an X over her chest.

 

The morning of drinking and gossiping with Isabela was exactly what Hawke needed. She left the Hanged Man feeling much better and headed down to Darktown to see if Anders needed any help, toting a full carafe of Norah's raspberry tea. She walked in on him doing a bit of cleaning and he smiled as she entered. She shook the carafe and grinned. "Got any mugs?"

"Of course..." his brow cocked as he moved to his bedroom and gathered two mugs. "You made tea?"

She snorted. " _Norah_ made tea. I just carried it. You know I'm shite in the kitchen."

He set the mugs down carefully. "I like your sandwiches."

"That's just all the love I put into them," she joked, pouring them each some tea and handing his mug to him before cradling hers and sitting on his desk, her feet dangling casually. "I can see you're really busy today."

He sat beside her and closed his eyes as he inhaled the raspberry scent of the steaming tea. "Sometimes I have days where I swear the doors are going to fall off the hinges with as many times as they swing open, and then there's days like today where I haven't seen a single person all morning." He hummed softly as he took a sip of his tea. They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Have you noticed how many Tranquil are in the Gallows courtyard lately?" When she sighed and rolled her eyes, he held up a palm. "And don't tell me I'm just sensitive to it. I've been watching, and everyday there are new Tranquil, selling their bloody wares. Good mages, too. People I _know_ passed their Harrowing."

"Are you imagining some sinister plot to turn all the mages in Kirkwall Tranquil?" she asked with a sideways glance and a smirk.

He looked at her in exasperation. "I'm not imagining it. The templars are using the Rite of Tranquility to silence those who speak against them. They're working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall within the next three years."

Hawke heaved another sigh. "And here I was worried you were having delusions of persecution again," She took a sip of her tea after the sarcastic words slipped from her lips.

"There are groups in Kirkwall who help those fleeing the Circle. I've talked to people on the inside," he insisted. "The plan is the work of a templar named Ser Alrik. I've had a run in with him myself. He's the one who did the ritual on Karl." He paused, inhaling a ragged breath before barreling ahead. "Nasty piece of work. Likes to make mages beg."

A run in? That made Hawke nervous. "What happened between you and Ser Alrik?" she asked softly, shifting her seat to face him and setting her mug down between them.

"I've been involved with an..." he stopped and shifted his gaze from his mug to her face, then sighing before revealing his secret. "underground resistance. Mages, living free in Kirkwall, who help others escape. I can't tell you any more, for your sake and theirs. You have too much involvement with the Guard and nobility. Suffice it to say, I've been in the Gallows. I've seen his work firsthand."

"What else do you know about him?" Hawke asked. Perhaps she might be able to bend Cullen's ear if she could get proof.

"The Knight-Commander is at least sincere in her convictions. However misguided, she believes she's helping people." His fingers were tracing the rim of his mug, and she found herself focusing on his hands as he spoke, his own attention distant. "Ser Alrik's a sadist. Cold blooded as a lizard. He likes to experiment on mages, find out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons."

Hawke made a disgusted noise as she crossed her arms. "Don't templars have anything better to do than come up with new ways to torment mages?"

"No..." he said simply, setting his mug down beside hers. His eyes met hers and seemed to bore into her. Just as she as starting to feel like he was putting her soul under a magnifying glass, he leaned in closer, lowering his voice and setting her heart fluttering. "My friends in the mage underground know a way inside. A secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows. Come with me, tonight, please. Help me find the evidence of Ser Alrik's 'tranquil solution'."

She frowned, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "What do you mean, 'tranquil solution'?"

He pulled back, sneering and she stifled a gasp. "That's what he calls it. His idea of a 'peaceful' solution to the mage problem... to sunder the minds of every mage in the Free Marches! I'm told he's bringing his proposal to Val Royeaux, to the Divine herself. He would turn every mage in Thedas into a drooling simpleton under his command!"

She noted his anger rising with his voice and she boldly reached over, taking the hand he had gripping the edge of the desk. "I wouldn't let you face this alone."

He glanced over at her, the pinched, angry expression on his face softening. "You are the one bright light in Kirkwall. I've always feared being made Tranquil." His hand squeezed hers. "Now more than ever... I'm ready to go when you are. Our entrance is concealed not far from here."

"I... I should probably dress for the occasion," she said glancing down at her casual outfit.

He released her hand. "I'll wait here."

 

Hawke had gone to her house, donned her armor and staff, and then trekked through the basement back to Anders'. She followed him through winding Darktown as he slipped in and out of different alleys. Even she was lost by the time he stopped her and pointed out the small hatch in the ground, hidden in a dark corner. As he knelt to open the hatch, he looked at her sidelong. "You can not tell _anyone_ about this entrance into the Gallows. It has saved hundreds of lives."

"Your secret is safe with me," she said, kneeling beside him to help him lift.

A rickety ladder led them down into a surprisingly well lit tunnel. "Lyrium smugglers built these tunnels to service the templars who crave the stuff," Anders said by explaintion as he led her further through the tunnels. "If we find evidence of Ser Alrik's plan, I'm taking it straight to the Grand Cleric. She will not be able to claim neutrality then."

The tunnels began to narrow and Hawke started to feel claustrophobic. The reality of this plan began to hit her. Was she really willingly heading into the lion's den? Her heart skipped a beat as Anders held out an arm to stop her and she heard voices beyond the next doorway. Had they been found out? She pressed her back against a wall and listened.

"No, please! I haven't done anything wrong..." a soft female voice pleaded.

A lifeless and sinister voice answered her pleas. "That's a lie. What do we do to mages who lie?"

"I just wanted to see my mum. No one ever told her where they were taking me," the female said, fear in her tone.

Hawke had her eyes on Anders and he was facing some inner struggle. Justice flashed before her, Anders' eyes disappearing behind the spirit for a split second before he mumbled and closed his eyes. "No. No... this is their place. We cannot..." She reached over and took his hand and he squeezed hers back tightly as the conversation in the next room continued.

"So, you admit your attempted escape? You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?" the humdrum voice taunted.

Hawke heard the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground as the girl fell to her knees and pleaded. "Please, no! Don't make me Tranquil! I'll do anything!"

"That's right..." he taunted as Anders' hand slipped from hers and he drew his staff. "Once you're Tranquil, you'll do anything I ask."

Anders was losing it. Hawke needed to do something. She shoved her arm out, elbowing past him as he hit the wall, and barreled through the door into the room. The girl who was sobbing in fear was kneeling before a bald man with a rather impressive gray goatee. There were several other templars surrounding the scene and without any more thought, Hawke raised her voice and challenged them all. "The Chantry frowns on templars who take personal advantage of their charges."

"Who's this?" the templar, who had to be Ser Alrik turned to get a good look at her.

"It's the Divine. Come all the way from Orlais to tell you personally what a jackass you are," she taunted, his face angering her as he noticed she was a mage and his eyes lit up with a sickening glee.

She felt Anders move in behind her, and her shoulders slumped as she realized that Justice had won the inner battle. "You fiends will never touch a mage again!" he growled in his deep and gravely tone. The words were all the preamble he needed before the crackle of Anders' magic spread out around her. Several of the templars tried to gear up to cast a holy smite, and Hawke was forced to join the fray or be taken out of it completely. There was no Fenris around to juice her with mana. She quickly called a tempest, striking the preparing templars, the electricity spreading through the metal of their armor and intensifying. Ser Alrik focused on her, his sword swinging above his head as he charged. As he brought it down, she slipped the blade from her staff and blocked the swing. With the blade in the air, she flicked the head of the staff toward the templar, kicking up dirt that lit on fire as her fireball skittered across the ground heading for the glyph she had drawn with her eyes at his feet. As soon as the mana charged fireball hit the glyph, it exploded under him and he had no time to dance out of it's way. The skirts of his armor caught fire. He shouted in terror and she swung the blade back down, slashing across his throat. The rest of the templars were falling under Justice, and when the last one went down, Hawke jogged to his side.

"They will die!" he shouted. "I will have every last templar for these abuses!"

"The templars are gone. You can stop glowing," Hawke urged.

He spun on her, mage fire blazing around him, the heat drawing sweat to her brow. "Every one of them will feel Justice's burn!"

"Get away from me, demon!" the frightened mage shouted, her voice shaking as she cowered still on her knees.

Hawke cringed as Justice turned on the girl. "I am no demon! Are you one of them that you would call me such?"

Hawke took the two steps that put her in grabbing distance of his arm. "Anders, that girl is a mage. We rescued her from being made Tranquil."

"She is theirs! I can feel their hold on her!" he insisted.

Hawke repeated his name, desperately trying to diffuse the situation and recall Justice. "She's the reason you're fighting, _Anders_. Don't turn on her now!"

"Please, messere!" the girl begged.

Justice drew back, magic crackling in his palm and spreading around him. Hawke had a split second to decide if she should intervene before an earsplitting crack sounded and Anders broke free, dropping to his knees and gripping his head as the blue fissures in his skin receded. The girl fled and Hawke moved between her and Anders, unsure what to do. He lifted his head, tears glistening in his eyes. "Maker, no! I almost... If you weren't here... I... I need to get out of here." He got to his feet and ran back the way they had come in. Hawke stood alone in the cave, her mouth agape. She wanted to run after him, but they coudn't have come all this way and been through so much just to leave with empty hands. She looked around, gathering her bearings and headed toward Ser Alrik's body. She knelt and searched his person, luckily coming across some documents tucked near his breast that had not burned. She unfolded them gingerly with two fingers, the blood sticking a few of the corners together. She leaned back on her haunches and read over the letter.

_To her Excellency, Divine Justinia,_

_I am well aware both you and Knight-Commander Meredith have rejected my proposal, but I beg you to reconsider. The mages in the Free Marches are past controlling. Their numbers have doubled in three years, and they have found a way to plant their abominations in our ranks. They cannot be contained._

_The Tranquil Solution is our answer. All mages at the age of majority must be made Tranquil. They'll coexist peacefully, retain their usefulness... a perfect strategy! It's simply the best way to ensure mages obey the laws of man and Maker._

_I remain, as always, your obedient servant,_

_Ser Otto Alrik_

Hawke sighed in mild relief. It seemed that Ser Alrik was alone in his solution. Hawke tucked the note safely in her pocket and got to her feet. She numbly followed the tunnels back out to where they had come in. She closed the hatch behind her and jumped as a voice spoke from the shadows. "You... You saved my life, messere." The young mage moved into the light and Hawke released the breath she had sucked in at the unexpected voice. "What was that thing?"

"He's no demon," Hawke assured her, her own voice choked with emotion. "Just a deeply troubled man."

"Can I... go home now?" the girl asked, her dark eyes swimming with tears.

"Find your parents, but don't stay there. You must leave Kirkwall," Hawke advised.

The girl nodded. "I know. There's nowhere in the city where Ser Alrik's men won't find me. Thank you, messere. Andraste herself must have put you in that room."

Hawke patted the girl's arm before they left in opposite directions. Hawke found her way back to Anders' clinic, hoping he had gone back there. The lanterns were dark, but one of the doors was cracked open. She heard his voice, mumbling from the other side. "Trash. Trash. Keep. Trash. Trash... won't be needing that anymore..."

She pushed the door open quietly, and closed it behind her. He was hunched over his desk, his staff abandoned on the floor just inside the door. He was shuffling through the piles of paper that were his manifesto and angrily tossing balls of paper over his shoulder, the parchment catching fire as it fell to the floor. She approached him hesitantly, her hands shaking as she pulled the bloodied letter from her pocket and unfolded it. She cleared her throat as another flaming ball of paper fell at her feet. "This is all Ser Alrik had. Looks like the 'Tranquil Solution' began and ended with him."

Anders spun and snatched the paper from her. "Let me see that!" His eyes scanned the letter, the sweet honey color blazing with barely contained guilt. When his expression changed, the guilt remained. "The Divine... rejected the idea. Meredith rejected the idea! This was... not what I expected." he paused and glanced up at her, his gaze softening just a bit. "Perhaps I should try talking to the Grand Cleric. Maybe she's more reasonable than I thought. Thank you. I will think on what you've said."

Hawke knew she was no longer welcome. He needed his space. He seemed to have calmed with the letter still clutched in his hand and she backed out of the clinic, leaving him with his thoughts.

 

Again, she put off going to the DuPuis estate. She gave Anders all the space she could stand to give him. It was three days before she dared to show her face back in his clinic. It was a good sign when she approached that the lanterns were glowing brightly. She pushed her way inside and had to scan the room a couple of times before she spotted him near the back, kneeling in a corner. She approached him, craning her neck to look over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Without looking at her, he answered with a chuckle that made her heart flutter. It was a beautiful thing to hear him make such a lighthearted sound after the emotional mire he must have waded through in the last few days. "Putting out milk. I miss having a cat around." he brushed his hands off and stood, pushing up with his palms on his knees. Then he turned to face her. He was smiling and she got lost in his gaze as he continued. "But I think the refugees have scared them all off..." his expression shifted to one of amused disgust. "Or maybe eaten them." He moved toward his desk and she followed. "You know, I've been meaning to thank you. Having someone like you making a name for yourself in Kirkwall. It's done a lot for mages. You're the kind of leader we need. To tell the world we won't be punished any longer for our Maker given gifts."

Hawke couldn't hold in her chuckle as his good mood caressed over her skin, his magic sifting from him in a cool wave. "Oh, I love it when you go all hotheaded revolutionary."

He flinched as his expression turned to a pained frown. "I've tried to hold back. You saw what I almost did to that girl. You've seen what I am. But I'm still a man. You can't tease me like this and expect me to resist forever."

She cocked a hip, conveying every bit of confidence that she didn't actually feel. The way he was talking, she was terrified. She shook inside, even as she smirked and stepped closer to him, her heart hammering in her chest. "How long will it take before I drive you mad?" she purred.

She expected rejection. She expected resistance.That was what he had trained her to expect. What she didn't expect was his lips against hers, so rough that her teeth nearly cut through her lip. Her head was cupped between his hands as her knees went weak and she dropped her butt onto the desk as their shared breath turned into a shallow pant for air when he cut her lungs off with his surprise. His own chest heaved as she touched her hands to it, his heart thumping as rapidly as hers. Her insides clenched as he pulled away for air, pressing his forehead to hers before laying another brief but dizzying kiss to her lips. He was standing between her legs and her stomach clenched for more. "This will be a disaster," he gasped. "But I can't live without it. We could die tomorrow. I don't want it to be before I tell you how I feel."

"Ooh," she responded, her own breath returning as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing in the feathers of his pauldrons. "Is it in verse? I hope it's in verse."

His wide smile as he chuckled and his fingers traced her jaw made her bite her lip as a wave of arousal flooded her senses. "I thought with Justice... this part of me was over. I can't give you a normal life. If you're with me, we'll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us." Suddenly, the clinic door slowly came open and he cringed. He lowered his voice before moving away from her. "If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not, I'll know you took my warning at last."

He moved to greet the new arrivals, and she cleared her throat, touching her hands to her flushed cheeks and then rubbing them through her hair. She hopped from the desk, her legs not quite prepared to support her and she leaned momentarily on the edge. Maker, nothing she had ever done had prepared her for that kiss. He had floored her. She headed for the exit, her hands shaking and her stomach full of butterflies. Every warning he threw at her just made her want him that much more. She had had many partners in her life, but none of them had ever made her feel the way he had with a simple kiss.

 

She was pacing her bedroom, the front door left explicitly unlocked at her insistence. She stopped herself, crossing her arms to stare into the blazing fire beneath her mantle. A soft click made her start and she turned toward her door to see him closing and locking it behind him. "You're here!" she gasped, her heart exploding. "I wasn't sure you would come."

He paced half of the distance between them in two slow strides. "Justice does not approve of my obsession with you. He believes you're a distraction." He took two more steps toward her, smirking. "It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree."

She cocked her head, her arms wrapped around her middle. "So, he's kind of... an unwilling participant in our threesome?"

Anders' lips curled back briefly before he sighed. "Please don't call it that... Are you sure you want me here? Did you decide you want something more than a quick tumble with Isabela?"

She flushed as she took a step of her own toward him. If only he knew about Fenris... Maker he never would have come to her. "She meant nothing to me. You're the one I... love," Hawke admitted, the realization hitting her.

There was still an unbearable distance between them as he began to speak again. "When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was something you couldn't stand to lose." He slowly closed that distance, putting himself nearly on top of her. Then at his next words, he twitched away, almost turning from her. "It would kill me to lose you."

She grabbed his arm, turning him back to her. "This isn't going to fix that," she said with a soft chuckle.

He reached up, his hand gently cupping her cheek as heat trickled from his fingers. "No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love. This is the rule I will most cherish breaking." His thumb caressed over her cheekbone and she tipped her head into his touch, her eyes closing.

This kiss was soft and slow. Her hands moved up his arms to his elbows as she pulled him closer to her. His long fingers caressed upwards to play in her hair. He tasted familiar, like the first bite of your favorite meal after a long hiatus. She pulled away to gaze into his honey eyes and deep inside, she knew that he was everything she had been craving. She had attempted to fill the void, but had come up short, still yearning for the spark that was dancing between them. She allowed her hands to find their way back down to his and she backed up toward her bed, pulling him with her.

She sat down and he bent to press his lips to hers again, moving them both further onto the bed. She laid on her back, one knee upraised as his weight settled half on top of her and half to her side. His free arm that was not holding his weight fell onto her stomach and moved slowly to her hip where he tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him. He moved his lips from hers and laid light kisses from the corner of her mouth, over her jaw and down her neck. Her hand roved up his arm and she gripped his shoulder. Her other arm found it's way up under his loose tunic to touch him skin to skin. He had abandoned her neck to worry at her shoulder where her own tunic had predictably slipped off it's perch. His hand that gripped her hip slid upwards and under her clothing to caress over her ribs, making her jerk closer to him as he hit the one spot on her body that was ticklish. His giddy chuckle as he tested the spot again made her laugh. "Cretin," she accused, tipping her head so she could nuzzle her mouth against his neck. He continued his path up her side and finally his palm found her breast where she had forgone a breastband in anticipation of his visit. He squeezed her lightly and then moved on, wanting to touch every inch of her.

He pressed against her side, his erection growing more obvious as they touched and kissed everywhere they could reach. She rolled to her side so she was facing him and dipped her hand below the top of his pants, grasping his rear like he had her breast. He slipped a hand down and around her back before rubbing down over her ass and to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg so it was draped over his hip. Their bodies pressed against each other, the fabric of their clothing both a hindrance and a glorious friction. Finally, he pushed his hand up under her tunic and lifted it over her head. It laid beneath her, still pinned by one arm as he dipped his head to kiss her sternum before moving from one breast to the other, kissing every centimeter along his path to her nipples where he ran his tongue over the tips, hardening them and drawing a gasp from her mouth. He thrust against her, reacting to the soft moan. She pulled her hand from his pants and gripped his head to push him against her chest where he moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue and then barely kissed the tips of her nipples again. The grip she had in his hair loosened his hair tie and his hair fell loose around her fingers and some fell over his face. She brushed it aside as he lifted his head again and his lips found hers. She took the opportunity to relieve him of his own shirt, breaking their kiss for only a moment. She traced her fingers against his skin, memorizing him by touch. When she swiped slowly over his pectorals, she pulled away from the kiss to inspect the large, jagged scar just above his heart. "What's this?" she wondered softly, tracing her fingertips over it.

He caught her hand with his, drawing her gaze up to his. "Don't worry about that now. I'll tell you the story later."

He drove her to distraction by reaching down inside her pants and taking them down to her knees. She kicked them off, leaving her naked. He tipped her to her back with a gentle hand on her hip and smirked mischievously. Parting her legs, he moved his hand up her thigh, gripping every few inches in a light massage. When his hand finally found her lips, he traced small circles around her outside, spreading the seeping moisture that he drew from her as he leaned in to kiss her neck again. Suddenly, she felt a light spark between her legs and she jerked in surprise. "Andraste!" she choked as the magic radiated through her whole body.

He chuckled. "Have you never been with another mage before?"

She shook her head, biting her lip as he sent another spine tingling spark through her. "You don't meet many other mages as an apostate hiding in a small village."

"Well then you are in for a treat, sweetheart," he said with a grin. The sparks turned to a gentle heat as he slowly slipped a finger inside. He moved in and out, slowly adding one finger after another, stopping at three and then unleashing another shock of electricity into her core.

She gripped the sheets beneath her, writhing under his touch. Her hands reached up, grabbing hold of the headboard with one and the post with another. "Oh Holy Maker!" she gasped, her own mana unwravling unheeded.

He let out a delighted chuckle and nuzzled her neck. "Careful, you don't want to light the canopy on fire. I know how much heat you have. I'll take it slower."

Her chest was heaving as she attempted to regain control over her magic. He took the opportunity in her distraction to slip his fingers from her and remove the rest of his own clothing. She loosened her grip on the wood above her as her muscles relaxed. He shifted on top of her and leaned in to kiss just below her ear and then take her earlobe between his teeth. His erection rubbed over where his fingers had just been and she lifted her hips, urging him to slip inside. After what he had done with the magic, her body fought him, her muscles on edge, and every inch was a back arching, teeth gritting, pleasure. She closed her mouth around the flesh of his neck and moaned in ecstacy and they found a rhythm that was slow and sensual. His own small noises had her turning her head into him so she could drink his pleasure with her mouth. Their tongues mingled and her fingers buried them selves in his long hair. One of his arms slipped underneath her, pulling her even closer and pushing himself deeper. Her breath started coming ragged as she shared it with him. Every breath she took in was one he exhaled. Her loins were on fire as he worked her to bursting. As the rush of completion began to hum through her, she wrapped her legs around his hips and cried out softly, her arms locking around his back, pulling every last inch of him into her and gasping in his ear. "Anders..." Another gasp. "Maker, I'm cumming."

Her exclamation had him letting out his own almost pained grunt as he buried himself as far as he could and she felt his warm seed spill in her gut. He held her against him for a few moments as they rode out the orgasm together. His other fist slowly closed around a bit of her hair and he pulled her head to the side so he could nip playfully at her neck. "You are... Maker..."

She chuckled and they both hissed as the movement clenched her muscles around him again. He gingerly loosened his grip on her waist and pulled slowly free to collapse on his back beside her. His face was the picture of contentment and she rolled onto her side, slinging a leg over him and snuggling against him, her head on his chest. His arm that was pinned beneath her lifted so he could wrap a hand around her arm and slowly rub up and down. His opposite hand reached over his own chest to caress his thumb over her cheek before playfully tapping the tip of her nose. She giggled, huddling closer to him and relishing the warmth of his skin. "That thing you did... with the electricity... That was..." she hummed, the sound serving as the end of her sentence.

He laughed heartily. "I thought you were going to set the bed on fire. Next time, I'll be a bit more gentle."

"Oh, please _don't_ ," she requested with her own joyous laugh. She lifted a finger to trace small circles on his chest and it skipped over the scar again. She paused, touching the very tip of it and following it down to the bottom. He allowed her curiosity as she studied the mark. "You promised me a story."

He sighed, but the happy smile didn't leave his lips as he spoke. "It happened right after I merged with Justice. Amell had sent us out to do some recruiting for the Wardens. The Order was in a sorry state after the whole mess with the Blight and the ensuing unrest. We picked up some recruits in the North... former templars. Once you join the Wardens, your past is supposed to disappear... The merge with Justice was chaotic and I passed out. Rolan... he had been wary of me from the start because of my history with the Circle. He betrayed me to the templars as I slept. When I came to, Justice and I took some time to realize what we had become, in the jumble, the templars attacked and we... I... killed them all. Dozens of men. Rolan drank Lyrium while I was melting the face off of one of his comrades. He came at me and when his sword bit through my chest, there was nothing. No pain, no reaction. He turned and fled, and Justice ripped his head from his shoulders."

She remained quiet, not needing words to fill the silence as she continued to trace the scar. After a moment, she moved on, her finger lightly following the lines of his body. She was amazed at how fit he was beneath his clothing. She had imagined him as skin and bones with his tendency to neglect himself, but the opposite was the case. She probably shouldn't have been surprised. She had felt his strength when he'd practically carried her home after their Wintersday party, and again when he'd cradled her after the Qunari spear. As she traced all over his chest, she felt her lids getting heavy. His hand took hers and lifted it to his lips to kiss her fingers lightly before setting it back down over the scar and holding it in place. She fell asleep with his pulse in her palm.

 

When she woke in the morning, he was still beside her. It was strange at first after the last two lovers had left before the sun was up. He was different. She cared for him, and he for her. His head was turned slightly toward her and she was still cuddled against his side, his arm around her upper body, holding her close. He breathed slow and deep, still fast asleep. She carefully extricated herself from the shelter of his arms and the blanket that had found it's way over them. Laying a soft kiss on his forehead, she slipped from the bed and hunted down her robe and then picked up their clothing to drape it over the back of the desk chair. Not wanting to leave the room, she moved in front of the fire to warm herself and stared into the flames as they danced happily just as her heart was. Each time she recalled the night before, her stomach fluttered. It had been a hard earned prize and worth every rejection to make it to where they were.

She got lost in her thoughts, the flames turning into shapes like clouds did when you stared at them. She didn't hear him get up, but when his hands touched her shoulders and slid down her arms, she leaned back into him. He nuzzled her neck, laying a gentle kiss at the bend before his voice poured over her. "I love you." Her heart skipped and stuttered as she turned to face him, his hand coming up from her elbow to touch her face. "I've been holding back from saying that. You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future... But I don't ever want to leave you."

She moved into his space and cracked a smile, "Want a sandwich?"

His snort of laughter widened her smile. "You will be an inspiration to generations of romantic poets." he leaned in and pressed his smiling lips to hers and she could taste his happiness. When he pulled away, his forehead against hers, he sighed. "So, not to bring up anything unpleasant, but... the templars were sniffing around my place yesterday. It's possible I may need somewhere else to go. In the near future. Would... here be an option?"

"Way to kill the romance," she teased taking his hand in hers.

"I _thought_ you might appreciate not having to step over the drunkards in Darktown every time you want to see me. What do you say?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"Of course you're welcome here," she agreed, squeezing the hand she still held.

"For three years, I have lain awake every night, aching for you. I'm still terrified I'll wake up," he confessed with a self deprecating chuckle.

She closed the distance between them again, reassuring him, and herself, that neither of them were in the Fade. This was real. They had finally found their way to each other, and she was not letting go.

 

Anders returned from his clinic that evening near supper time and he had a small pack filled with some of his things. He found her in the library, browsing her collection for something to read. He dropped the pack on the floor and pulled her against him to lay a soft kiss on her lips. When they pulled apart, she glanced down at the bag and crooked her brow. "I could have come and helped you carry some things."

He shrugged. "Why rush, love? We have all the time in the world. I just brought a change of clothes and some books you might find interesting."

"Ooh, goodies," she said, kneeling to pick up the bag.

"Sack of stuff," he said jokingly.

She snorted and chuckled as she pulled out the books on magical healing and one in particular on spirit healing. She moved toward the stairs to head down to the reading room and grab a chair, but when she opened the book and began to read as she was walking, she paused at the top of the narrow staircase and dropped down onto the steps, enraptured with the book. She had learned all of her healing skills from her father, but he had not been particularly good at it, only showing Bethany and her the basics. "This is fascinating," she gasped as he moved to sit beside her. She lifted one of her palms, cradling the book in her opposite hand.

She flicked and twisted her fingers in the pattern drawn out in the book. When she poured mana into the spell, it flickered and died. He hummed softly, slipping his hand beneath hers, his palm touching the back of her hand, their fingers splayed together. "Like this..." she relaxed her hand into his, allowing his fingers to twitch hers in the proper pattern and she closed her eyes, feeling the movement and attempting to memorize it. She felt him shift beside her and he leaned in, laying a brief kiss on her neck.

"I'll never learn if you keep distracting me," she scolded teasingly, the hand he was holding balling into a fist as her heart began to race.

He smiled against her neck and laid one more kiss there before pulling away. "Sorry, love."

He gave her a moment, and she relaxed her hand again in his and then he executed the spell pattern again. When he moved his hand, the hum of his mana left her skin tingling and she cleared her throat, attempting the spell again. The spell sparked briefly, the glow of healing humming to life in her palm before fading out quickly. "Makers balls, this is difficult."

He chuckled. "You've probably chosen the hardest spell in the book... You know, you're lucky. Amell couldn't heal a splinter. Specializations tend to run in families."

"I knew my mother's family had magic, but most of what I know came from my father. He was an exceptional elementalist. He used to joke that he gave all of his fire to me and Bethany got his ice," she said, reflecting on the happy memory of her father. She turned her hand over and laced their fingers together, closing the book with a snap. "I should probably get something to eat. I have an estate to crash tonight."

"Would you like company?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's a favor for Aveline. Those usually end up with me getting jumped in an alley, so company wouldn't hurt. I'm probably going to bring a whole team."

"Have you spoken with Fenris since the holding caves?" Anders asked, his tone mildly bitter as if he didn't want to ask the question, but it mattered to her, so he asked it anyhow.

"He was here... when I got back the other night. We... talked. I think he'll be all right. He's not the most open with his feelings," she said with a shrug and a sigh.

"You 'talked', did you?" he asked.

Was she that transparent? "Among...other things," she admitted with a heavy sigh. "It really was nothing and he left right afterwards."

Anders' arm slipped around her shoulders. "I can't account for your tastes, but we've both had more than each other. What matters is that here, now, we're together. I know how you feel about me. It's blatantly obvious in your touch." He pulled her head against his chest where his heart beat smoothly, and kissed the top of her head.

"Marian!" her mother's voice rang through the room. Hawke slipped away from Anders, giving his hand a squeeze before standing as her mother came into the reading room, looking around.

"I'm here, Mother. What is it?" she asked, hopping down the stairs as Anders stood and followed her, a pleasant smile on his face.

Leandra glanced between the two of them, her brow wrinking slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company, dear." she turned a smile on Anders. "We've met before, haven't we?"

"Twice...briefly," he confirmed, a light tip of his head in respect.

Hawke drew her mother's attention again. "Is everything all right, Mother?"

"Oh, yes, dear. I just wanted to tell you that your elven girl, Orana, made us some dinner."

"Perfect. I need to go out tonight, Mother. Don't wait up," she said, taking Anders by the hand and leading him toward the kitchens.

 

At the DuPuis estate, knocking on the front door got them no answer. Hawke huffed and rolled her eyes. "Bloody waste of my time."

"Now, now," Varric chided moving up in front of the door. "You're just not being persistent enough."

He pulled out a set of lockpicks and set to work on the front door. Hawke stood watch with her arms crossed. She could feel Fenris' eyes boring holes in her and she fidgeted. Anders moved to her side and took hold of her arm gently. "You seem on edge, love. Everything all right?"

Fenris grunted at the endearment and she sighed. "Yes, I'm fine. There's just... better things we could be doing. It's freezing out here."

He lowered his voice, but she knew in the small alcove of the estate's entrance, Fenris could still hear them. "We'll curl up by the fire later. Maybe work on that spell again?"

She glanced up at him and smiled. "I'd like that."

Varric cleared his throat, standing. "I hate to interrupt, but we're in."

As soon as the door shut behind them, shades manifested from the floor. Hawke's staff was in her hand in an instant. She cast a mind blast to stun the shades that were slithering toward them as the others drew their weapons."Looks like we're in the right place," Fenris grunted after cutting down the last shade.

"I'm certain the city guard didn't receive that greeting," Hawke agreed. "Search everything. I want to know what he's up to."

Throughout the house, they were attacked by more shades. A lot of the evidence was not adding up however. There was evidence of blood magic and women's clothing in a trunk of the house of a man who was supposed to be a bachelor, but according to several letters they found lying around, the queen of accusing mages of blood magic, Knight-Commander Meredith, had made a formal apology for the raid by the guard.

On the top floor, they came upon a middle aged man that was standing over an older woman with a knife. Hawke pulled her staff and approached cautiously. The terrified woman looked around the man and began to beg Hawke from her knees. "Help me! Please! He's gone mad!"

The man swiveled to look at Hawke, his expression victorious before he saw who she was and then it turned into confusion and then fear. "You're not... You're not him! Shit! I... know what this looks like, but I didn't hurt her."

Hawke frowned and placed her free hand on her hip. "So the wild eyed hysteria is just for show then?"

He shook his head, his long red hair waving slightly as it caught on his shoulders with the movement. "You don't understand. Someone is after her. I had to keep her safe! I don't know why you're here, but there's a killer out there, and I think he's playing us both." His tone and the shock of her arrival were both genuine and it gave her pause. "Just... just let me explain."

Hawke slowly nodded and harnessed her staff. "All right. We'll see if you can talk yourself out of this."

"Twenty silver if he says, 'it wasn't me it was the one armed man'!" Varric said with a chuckle, putting on a voice. Hawke suppressed her smile as Anders tittered.

She had stowed her staff, but there were still three armed men behind her and DuPuis glanced between them as he spoke. "Several years ago, my sister was murdered. The bastard's now in Kirkwall, killing again. The same way he killed my sister. It starts with a bouquet of white lillies. He sends them to each new victim. Alessa was going to be next," he indicated the woman. "I took her so he'd have to come to me. I was finally going to face my sister's killer, but then you showed up..." DuPuis rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"He's lying," the woman balled. "He hurt me!"

DuPuis moved and knelt before the woman, a safe distance away. "I've explained this! I need your blood to track you down if he took you... It was for your protection!"

He reached to console her and she scurried away from him. "Let go of me!" Then she stood and ran.

DuPuis stood and his eyes widened as the woman fled. "She'll go straight to the city guard. They'll ruin everything."

Hawke crossed her arms. "Emeric was certain _you_ were the killer."

"Of course he was. But I was trying to find the killer, just like him. Our paths crossed, and he just assumed I was the murderer," DuPuis explained.

"You really did make yourself a target, though. Kidnapping people and all," Hawke pointed out with a chuckle.

"I suppose that's fair," DuPuis agreed with a shrug.

"So, who killed your sister?" she wondered.

"A powerful and experienced blood mage. I believe he uses the women for some ritual. His victims are attractive, healthy women with few social ties," DuPuis said giving her everything he knew and then shrugging.

Hawke sighed and tossed a thumb over her shoulder. She believed him. "Time for you to vanish. Every man for himself."

He started to leave and said over his shoulder, "I'm headed to Darktown. If you learn anything new about the killer, find me there. I've a score to settle with him." Then he disappeared.

"I'm going to start charging Aveline more coin when she comes knocking," Hawke said wistfully as she led the others from the house.

"Was this connected to that sack of bones we found in that foundry a few years ago?" Varric asked as they left the mansion.

"Ninette de Carrac," Fenris said from memory.

Hawke nodded. "The templar we met... Emeric... he has apparently been a thorn in Aveline's side and I was hired to shut him up by proving him wrong. Apparently he's _not_ wrong. I'll talk to them tomorrow. Right now, I could use a drink. Varric, are you buying?"

"Is it my turn already?" Varric grumbled.

"Izzy bought last week, so yes. It is your turn," she teased, strolling through Hightown.

She noticed Fenris breaking off from the group and he mumbled something about being tired before dipping into his mansion. "He's broodier than usual. Is he still sore about your spat in the caves?" Varric asked.

"No, I don't think that's it," Hawke said as Anders slipped his hand into hers.

Varric watched with curiosity, but said nothing. He would save anything he had to say for when he and Hawke were alone. They chatted amiably, laughing and joking as they headed for the Hanged Man. Varric chuckled as he held the door open for them. "I don't know why you insist on spending my coin here. Your cellars are filled with booze."

"Because you rarely come to visit Varric, and I want to bathe in your presence as I get drunk on your coppers," Hawke mused.

Isabela saw them enter and waved them over, Merrill already at the table with her. "Daisy! You're here. I was starting to forget what you looked like," Varric said to Merrill as he sat down beside her, flinging his coat over the back of his chair.

Hawke sat in her usual chair and took note of the deck of cards on the table as she held three fingers up to Norah who smiled and nodded. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Wicked Grace isn't for another two nights..."

Merrill flashed her cards to the table as she lowered her hands and Hawke cringed. "Isabela is trying to teach me to bluff better, but I can't seem to beat her."

Isabela chuckled and reached up to push Merrill's hands back up. "It's because I cheat, Kitten." She rolled a small golden disc over her fingers, looking down at it as it flashed in the glow of the firelight. She flipped it back into her palm and held it up. "This trinket... It's elven isn't it? From your clan. Don't bet anything you're not prepared to lose. Here... have it back." She handed the disc over to Merrill and she accepted it with a sweet smile. "So, did I miss anything interesting?"

Hawke shrugged, lifting her legs and crossing her ankles on Anders' lap. "Nothing but some shades." She beckoned the deck from Isabela as the pirate began to shuffle it. With a roll of her eyes, Isabela handed the deck over and Hawke began to shuffle it herself. "You forgot the one in your bodice," she grinned, holding her hand out. Isabela dug in her cleavage and slapped the card into Hawke's palm.

Merrill looked down at her own small chest and sighed softly. "I could never hide a card in there..."

Hawke chuckled. "It's okay, Merrill. I tried once and instead of being easily accessible, it slipped down my shirt when I moved and I got caught."

"I'll fish it out for you the next time that happens," Anders offered with a chuckle, taking a sip of the drink that Norah had brought him.

Hawke reached out and flipped the deck of cards gently against his cheek, her answering smirk telling for the entire table. "Andraste's tits," Varric grumbled, flicking a coin over to Isabela who accepted it with a wink.

"What was that all about?" Hawke asked, glancing between them and pursing her lips.

"Varric and I had a little bet going over whether you two would come to your senses before Wintersday. I was certain I had it in the bag when you broke off our thing last week," Isabela explained with a throaty chuckle.

"You two were betting on our relationship?" Anders asked, with an expression that was both frown and smirk at the same time.

"Wait, what did I miss?" Merrill asked, glancing innocently between everyone.

"They're sleeping together, Kitten," Isabela explained.

"Oh!" Merrill gasped, her eyes widening. "Why do I always miss everything important?"

"Because you've been holed up in that house of yours for days on end, doing Maker knows what," Varric chided. "You need to get out more, Daisy."

Hawke uncrossed her ankles, dropping one foot to hook around Anders' chair leg and drag him closer where she draped her left leg over his thigh and sat forward, distributing five cards to each of them. His hand found her thigh beneath the table, massaging gently. She set the rest of the deck in the middle of the table and picked up her hand, reclining again in her seat to take a look at her cards. She shuffled them around and waited for the others to take their turns before picking a card from the pile and replacing her serpent card for the dagger she plucked. Her hand was terrible, but she had picked up a few things from Isabela over the years. She was still wearing her armor which meant she had long enough sleeves to slip a card or two under her wrist guards. She also used Ander's attention on her thigh to slip a card under his hand when she pretended to play with his fingers. He looked at his own cards, a sly smile spreading over his lips as he realized what she had done.

"No, I don't like this," Varric protested as he watched them. He chuckled and set his cards face down in front of him. "I've seen Hawke use this trick before with you Rivaini. Show me your hands, Blondie."

Hawke pouted. "Varric, the game is no fun if you're going to play by the rules."

"No one's cheating," Anders insisted, slipping the card down in Hawke's boot and holding up his hands.

"Speak for yourself," Isabela purred, fiddling with the cards in her hands.

They continued to play late into the night until Hawke was pleasantly tipsy but her purse was much lighter. "I'll take Merrill home," Isabela offered, pulling her coat on and tossing a couple of cards on the table that she had hidden on her person so that Varric could put the deck away.

"Take me home," Hawke hummed to Anders, breathing on his neck.

"As you wish, love," he whispered back, laying a kiss on her temple.

She left with him, cradled against his side, his arm wrapped around her. It suddenly hit her just how much taller than her he was. "You're so... up there," she pointed out, reaching up to touch her finger tip to the end of his nose.

He snickered softly, catching her hand before she poked his eye out. "And you're so down there." He stopped them at the top of the stairs in the Hightown Market, turning to face her. "I have a remedy for that."

"Is that so, doctor?" she purred, pressing her chest against him.

He knelt and captured her lips with his, his hands dipping down to her thighs. He gripped them tightly and lifted her off her feet so her legs were wrapped around his waist. He backed her into a pillar in a dark corner of the market, his mouth moving to her neck as she clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her fingers slipping into his hair, loosening it from it's tie and letting it fall. She was so wrapped up in him and his hands on her that she did not see the torch approaching. A sharp clearing of someone's throat jerked her out of the little bubble of arousal she had been swimming in and her eyes flew open. Aveline was staring at her, with a mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and agitation. Hawke slowly lowered her feet to the ground and chuckled in embarrassment. "Seriously, Hawke?" Aveline scolded. "This is Hightown."

"Sorry?" Hawke bit her lip, "Should we go back down the stairs?" She shrugged and tossed a thumb over her shoulder as Anders buried his face in her coat and attempted to muffle his laughter, his body shaking.

"I _can_ hear you, Anders," Aveline said, a smile breaking out on her lips that she attempted to quickly quash. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see this. Take it inside, you two."

Aveline passed them, shaking her head and still smirking as she started down the stairs toward Lowtown. Hawke glanced at Anders, her lips pressed together as she tried to hold in the snort of laughter that bubbled to the surface when he allowed his to escape. "Come on," she chuckled. "Let's get home before we get arrested for public indecency."

 


	12. In Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes the Hawke household.

Hawke headed for the Keep the next day with Varric and Anders in tow. She wanted to tell Aveline about the information she had gotten from DuPuis before she reported to Emeric. She strolled into Aveline's office and the red head was pacing. Before Hawke could even say anything, Aveline stopped and jogged the two steps to them, glancing between her and Anders briefly before sighing. "Hawke, I need... a favor that I can only trust to you."

"Oh, this should be good," Hawke smirked, crossing her arms as she took in her friend's agitated state. She briefly wondered if this favor would end in more bandits.

"It should be a small matter, but I worry," Aveline admitted moving over to her desk and opening a drawer to pull out a small plackard. "I need you to give something to Guardsman Donnic, here, in the barracks. No questions, and he is not to know it's from me." It was a hideous etching of a couple of flowers on a copper background. Hawke curled her lip as Aveline held it out to her.

"Donnic?" Hawke asked, trying to remember the man. "The one we pulled from an ambush?" She remembered back to Aveline's flushed face when she had helped Donnic off the ground and grinned, regarding Aveline through her lashes.

"The event that put me here. But this is... a different need of the guard and its Captain. And you're doing very badly at the 'no questions' part," Aveline accused.

Hawke held up her palms in submission. "If that's all you need, I'll walk the hundred feet to him."

"Thank you," Aveline said with a relieved sigh. "And please, hurry back with his reaction." She shoved the plaque into Hawke's hands. "I appreciate this, Hawke. I really do."

Hawke took the ugly thing and held it against her chest so she wasn't seen carrying it. She hunted down Donnic, finding him in the dining room. She sat down across from him on a bench and grinned. "Guardsman Donnic!"

He glanced up at her, taking a moment to recognize her before smiling politely. "Serah Hawke. It's been some time. You're here in Hightown now, right? I think the Captain mentioned it. I see your uncle now and then on my patrols but... we don't talk."

"No ill effects from the ambush, I trust?" Hawke said with an amenable smile in return to his.

He chuckled. "They got me pretty good, I'll admit, but they fared worse, so I can't complain. Guard is a good career if you're careful. A short one if you're not. And the Captain makes sure we're careful."

Hawke nodded, groaning inside as she lifted the plaque away from her chest and glanced at it before offering it up to him. "I have it on good authority that you are going to enjoy this."

He took the thing from her and she rubbed her palms on her thighs, glad to be rid of the monstrosity. His frown said it all as he cocked his head to study it. "Am I now? It's a copper relief of... marigolds? And it helpfully says so. 'Marigolds'," he read, pointing to the etched word. "Well," he said with a short, soft, forced chuckle. "How crafty. Is there a meaning to this that I should know?"

Hawke shrugged. "Possibly, 'here, you throw this away'?" she wondered.

"Well, it certainly conveys that," he said before clearing his throat. "Right. I'm sure we both have things to do. Of varying import... Serah Hawke."

Hawke got up from the bench and the others followed her out into the barracks lobby. As she headed slowly toward Aveline's office, Anders grunted. "That was awkward. What was Aveline thinking?"

Hawke shrugged and pushed open Aveline's office door. When Aveline saw her, she said nervously. "You're back. Of course you are. You're efficient. Get things done... Good or ill. So, how did Donnic react?"

Hawke cringed. "To your garbage, you mean?"

Aveline's expression sank into a concerned frown. "I thought it was clear. Metal is strong, Copper ages well, flowers are soft..." Hawke frowned and pulled her head back before curiously cocking it in wonder. Aveline looked away. "I've clearly gone about this the wrong way. Don't talk to him again. Just... take this." She picked up a parchment from her desk and shoved it at Hawke. "The patrols for next week. Post it to the roster and just... listen."

"Really?" Hawke said in amusement. "Just walk over there and post the roster?"

"I want his honest reaction, without the Captain present," Aveline said, practically begging.

"You could just have him hauled off," Hawke suggested, swallowing her chuckle. She thought she knew what was going on, but she couldn't be certain.

"This isn't about an accusation I can put into a report and explain. I need someone... unofficial..." Aveline said. That was Hawke. Unofficial city guard.

"All right. Posting the roster... Just over there..." Hawke said, backing out of the office with a grin.

"I need to know exactly how he reacts. That's key," Aveline hissed after her. "Thank you."

Hawke headed for the board and pulled the knife from the wood, taking down the old roster and stabbing the knife through the new one. Anders moved to whisper in her ear as she sidled casually off to the side. "She'd do a lot better to just get this fellow alone in a room. Life's too short."

Hawke allowed him to pull her into a hug as he played her cover and the guards all moved to check their routes. There was almost immediate uproar from one of the girls. Hawke thought she remembered her name was Brennan. "Hey, Donnic! Whose pucker have you been greasing to get Hightown?"

"What?" Donnic asked as he approached with a frown. "You're daft. I'm working those skinnings across town."

"Says here you're guarding the square. Always been a make-work job, that one. You someone's pet?" Brennan teased.

"Check your eyes, it's a mistake," he grumbled as he read over the roster himself.

"Says the pet," grumbled Brennan.

"You have got to be kidding me," Donnic sighed as Brennan walked off. "What did I do to get that post?"

Hawke slipped out of Anders' arms and headed back toward Aveline's office where the woman had her ear to the door already. "Donnic thinks I'm punishing him?" she wondered in astonishment. "But Hightown is a safe patrol. A reward."

"You wanted his reaction," Hawke pointed out, leaning against the desk in her favorite spot to annoy Aveline.

Instead of shooing her, Aveline began to pace again in agitation. "All right. I can fix this. I need... I need three goats and a sheaf of wheat. You'll take them to his mother..." When Hawke crossed her arms and pursed her lips with a frown, Aveline stopped pacing and her own jaw dropped momentarily. Hawke knew she had been right, but there was only so far she would go down the awkward path. "It's a dowry tradition... Maybe it will smooth the process..."

"I think my jaw just landed in the Deep Roads somewhere," Varric mumbled with a soft chuckle.

"Not a word, dwarf," Aveline growled.

"I wouldn't dream of mocking your... unconventional courtship," he said, barely holding in his mirth.

Hawke held up a hand, drawing Aveline's attention away from Varric. "How, exactly, did you think this mess would work?"

Aveline sighed glancing between Hawke and Anders again. "I don't know what I thought. I've been focused on being Captain for so long, that's all I know."

"Correct me if I'm about to get punched," Varric said, "But weren't you married?"

"That was... a long time ago," Aveline admitted, her shoulders slumping. "It was easier. Or seemed to be."

Hawke snorted and tossed her thumb back toward the lobby. "I can drag him in here right now. Just say the word."

Aveline's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. "Oh, and how would that look? The Captain ordering her guardsman to... to... It wouldn't help."

Varric sighed and Hawke heard his resignation to help. "There are places in this city where no one cares that you're Captain."

Aveline cocked her head. "What. Just... go out somewhere? Like it's that easy?"

Hawke reached back and Anders slipped his hand into hers. She held them up as evidence. "What? Too simple?"

Aveline sighed and finally shooed Hawke from her desk. "Tell Donnic... Invite him to the Hanged Man. Don't tell him about me, make something up. It's a surprise, or just you, or a group. Anything to get him there. He's not like the others. I don't want him to think he's meeting the Captain."

Hawke sighed and stood up from the desk rolling her eyes and forgetting all about why she had originally come to the barracks. She left Aveline's office and spotted Donnic across the lobby. She jogged up to him with a grin, throwing her arms wide. "Guardsman Donnic! How are you?"

"Good. I suppose?" he said with a frown and a shrug.

"Doesn't matter," Hawke said holding up a hand. "Free for an evening?"

He looked her up and down, his brow pinched. "I have no immediate patrols, why?"

"A night at the Hanged Man for all the guard! You'll come? Of course, you'll come..." she insisted, giving him little choice.

"Should I have heard of this? Very well, Serah Hawke. I guess I'll be there," he said with a nod and a smile.

 

Hawke sat back in her chair, staring at Donnic over the rim of her mug. He sat across from her in a simple tunic and leathers and she could see in his casual attire what Aveline might see in him. She really knew nothing else about the man. Her friends were sitting a few tables away where Varric had dragged them all into a game of Diamondback. She shifted uncomfortably, missing her usual chair as the awkward silence dragged on. Donnic frowned. "There were supposed to be others coming, right?"

Hawke nodded and took a drink from her mug. "Plans change, apparently."

"Right..." he said as if he didn't quite believe her. "Look, I should really..."

He moved to get up and Hawke quickly uncrossed her ankles from where they were perched on the chair beside her and her own front chair legs thumped to the floor as she reached for his arm. "What? No! Sit... drink..."

He settled back into his seat and Hawke glanced desperately at the door, wishing Aveline would hurry up. They sat for ages, and the silence became unbearable. Hawke sighed. She was going to kill Aveline.

"Another round?" she offered as Donnic finished off his drink.

"Maker, yes!" he said desperately. His leg was bouncing nervously under the table and Hawke motioned for more drinks.

She saw Aveline slipping quietly in the door, but when she spotted Hawke, she immediately hurried for the bar instead of them. Hawke narrowed her eyes in irritation, watching Aveline down a shot. Donnic turned to see what Hawke might be looking at, but Aveline was blocked from his sight by one of the pillars that supported the ceiling. When he turned back to her, Hawke smiled sheepishly and he frowned. Norah brought their drinks and Hawke downed hers quickly, lowering her eyes to the table. "So, Aveline is great!" Hawke finally said, trying to keep him there until Aveline built up her courage. It looked like it might be a lost cause. She was pacing and glancing over, shaking her head and likely mumbling to herself if her moving lips were any indication.

"Look," Donnic sighed. "If this was all an attempt to get closer to me through the Captain, you're just not my type. All this playing shy business... I like a little backbone! I have to go. Thanks for the drinks."

Hawke let her forehead hit the table, as Donnic got up and left, and let out a groan. There were so many better things she could be doing. She heard the chair he had vacated scrape across the floor as Aveline sat down. "I... I couldn't do it..." she sighed as Hawke lifted her head to look her friend in the face. The others approached, crowding around. "What did he say?"

Hawke reached over and took the unfinished drink from in front of Aveline and gulped it down trying to wash away the awkwardness of the evening. "He thinks _I'm_ interested in him."

"I'm an idiot," Aveline said with a short shake of her head before she buried her face in her hands, elbows on the table.

"Admitting it is a good step," Hawke said jovially. "Where are you heading next?"

Aveline rubbed her eyes. "The barracks. Ferelden? The deepest hole I can find?" She looked up desperately at Hawke.

Hawke straightened her shoulders. She had agreed to help and she was not letting Aveline give up. "You've never been the hiding type."

"I know, all right, but I freeze up! The only place I'm not a mess is on patrol. And killing highwaymen doesn't afford much time for banter," she admitted.

Hawke was tempted to say 'well then you aren't doing it properly', but she was interrupted by Fenris. "Again, she deflects."

"I will not risk..." Aveline began, shaking her head aggressively.

"You're squandering something you don't understand," he growled with a glance at Hawke.

"You can't ignore advice from such a stable source," Hawke pointed out sarcastically.

"But I can't fight _and_ talk..." Aveline insisted.

Hawke squared her shoulders. "I'll clear the way, and you can see if he's the one."

Aveline sat straighter and smiled softly as if taken aback by the offer. "You're too good at this. Is it any wonder you've all but taken Hightown?" As Hawke shrugged and leaned back into Anders' arm that was slung over her chair back, Aveline continued. "You clear the route up the Wounded Coast, and I... will think of something to say." As the nervous look returned to her face, Varric handed her another shot.

 

Aveline had given Hawke a copy of the patrol route along the coast that she and Donnic would be walking two afternoons later. Hawke went out with Varric, Anders and Fenris, making their way along the route and breaking up a few groups of bandits as they went. Once the route was clear, Hawke and the others dragged any bodies out of sight and then she circled back to listen in from the sidelines. When Aveline and Donnic came into sight, Hawke was crouched behind a cluster of rocks. Their boots scraped along the path, and suddenly one of them paused and turned. "So this route's pretty quiet," Donnic said, his voice muffled as the wind took it.

Aveline nearly barked her response before lowering her tone and continuing. "Yes! And its...a real nice night for an evening."

"Uh, as you say, Captain," Donnic responded almost as awkwardly as it had felt in the Hanged Man and Hawke cringed as the footfalls began again.

"Heh, yes. As I say," Aveline grumbled.

"Maker, she's bad at this," Hawke sighed, shifting to follow their path.

Hawke heard Aveline begin to talk about mindless things to fill the silence. A few times, she nearly bolted from her hiding spot and grabbed Aveline to shake her. Her latest grasp for conversation involved the proper crafting of blades. "If it isn't done right, the blade can be too soft. Quenching the steel is a vital step that can make or break a sword..." Aveline rambled. Hawke yawned, leaning her head on Anders' shoulder, his feathered pauldrons making a very comfortable pillow.

"Right," Donnic agreed passively.

"A blade for every purpose," Aveline said. "What do you think? About blades?"

Donnic seemed as bored as Hawke was with the rambling conversation. "I'm sorry, Captain. I drifted off a bit."

Hawke flinched as Aveline's tones fell. "Right. Of course."

They continued to walk and started to get out of hearing range so Hawke moved again. "Ugh. Painful," she muttered.

Finally after listening to almost another hours worth of Aveline's failed attempts at conversation, Hawke had enough. She stepped out onto the path and waited with her arms crossed as Aveline and Donnic rounded the corner. Aveline's attention was on Donnic and she said, "Well, Guardsman, good patrol. I think we're done, and I..." when her eyes lifted from the path and saw Hawke and her group blocking the way she gasped. "Hawke? What a surprise! What are you doing here?"

Hawke frowned and put on her best accusational tone. "Aveline..."

Aveline's eyes flashed. "Hawke, Don't..."

"We don't have all night, you know...?" Hawke said with a soft chuckle.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" Donnic begged, his whole person deflating.

"All right!" Varric said. "I'm going to draw a picture of where _she_ wants to touch you." He pointed at Aveline.

"Captain?" Donnic gasped, his left brow rising in surprise. Aveline attempted to laugh it off, but the sound came out breathy and frightened. "I... should get back to the barracks," Donnic said, shuffling his feet before moving past them all and heading for Kirkwall.

Aveline stayed behind to lay a hurt expression on Hawke. "I thought we were friends..."

"Friends sometimes push," Hawke pointed out.

"I... I have to fix this. He'll file a complaint... ask for a transfer." Her eyes narrowed as her mind raced over her options and Hawke continued to watch her in amusement. "You!" she pointed at Hawke. "You're coming to the barracks to explain why you put him on the spot! Double-time, Hawke, or so help me..." She pushed past them and stomped after Donnic.

Hawke sighed and rolled her eyes, spinning on the balls of her feet to follow behind. "You're in trouble with mum," Anders teased.

"As if I don't get enough of the side eye from my real mother," Hawke bristled. "I'm trying to help her."

"She knows that," Varric said. "For Andraste's sake, you trekked all the way out here to kill people so she could get a date. If that's not friendship..." He shrugged.

"When we get back to the city, you three go on home. I should probably handle this on my own," Hawke said .

 

Later at the barracks, Aveline was pacing again. Hawke had forgotten how annoying that could be. She watched her moving back and forth and wearing a rut in the ground outside her office. "Maker, where is Donnic?" she breathed, worriedly. "I have to... head this off before it goes to the Viscount. Maybe a formal apology. Something that shows the guards they can still trust me."

Hawke let the words spill from her lips. "Try the copper marigolds again. In hindsight they weren't the worst option."

"It's not funny!" Aveline protested, pausing her pacing.

Hawke shook her head. "I beg to differ."

"You'll beg for more than that if you keep this up," Aveline threatened as Donnic appeared from the main Keep.

He cleared his throat loudly to draw Aveline's attention. "My apologies, Serah Hawke, but I need a moment with the Captain."

Hawke smirked as Aveline turned to him and gasped, "Guardsman Donnic?"

"Please," he said, smiling at her.

Hawke nodded as Aveline looked to her with wide eyes, begging for help. She waved her fingers toward the office encouragingly. Donnic gave Hawke a short nod as he followed Aveline into the office. Hawke dropped herself down on the stairs up to the Keep, making herself comfortable to wait when the door closed behind them.

A while later, Donnic came from the office beaming and Hawke stood as he headed further into the barracks. "Aveline!" Hawke teased, guessing what had happened during their lengthy seclusion.

Aveline looked at Hawke, her face flushed not from embarrassment, but from happiness. Hawke sat on the edge of the desk to listen. "Guardsman Donnic..." Aveline said wistfully. "Did _not_ file a complaint." She sighed and uncrossed the arms that were hugging her waist. "This was all incredibly stupid, and you made it wonderful."

"You've finally mastered the obvious!" Hawke said with a snicker, shuffling a few of Aveline's papers around on her desk. "I'll take your word on the second part."

"You'll get the chance... I was mute and now I want to sing!" Aveline chuckled.

"Please, don't," Hawke requested as Aveline absently reorganized the papers as Hawke reached over to shuffle a few others.

"I just... there's no way I can ever repay you... Perhaps it's simple... Thank you," she said with a wide smile. After a moment and more rearranging she looked up again. "Hey, can I ask you something? Was there a moment where you thought I was beyond help?"

"Not for a second," Hawke said maybe a bit too quickly.

"You don't lie very well," Aveline chuckled.

"As far as you know," Hawke said with her own small laugh.

"You know, I have you to thank in more ways than one," Aveline admitted.

"How's that?" Hawke asked, finding a dagger that was holding down a stack of reports and picking it up to twirl in her fingers.

"Seeing you the other night in the market... with Anders... It made me realize all that I've been missing out on, burying myself in work. I barely know you anymore," she sighed. "How long has that been going on?"

"Less than a week, officially, but we've been dancing around it for three years," Hawke admitted, picking dirt from underneath her nails with the dagger. "Mother hasn't caught on, but he's slowly moving all of his things into my house." She chuckled. "We were just sitting around the other day, doing nothing. He attempted to play me a song on the lute, which ended in howls of laughter. You would think that someone who healed with his hands for a living would be better at playing the lute. He handed it over to Orana and we danced." Hawke hummed the slow melody dreamily as she recalled the sweet memory. "Orana plays beautifully, and Anders dances beautifully."

Hawke set the dagger down as Aveline sat down in her chair and crossed her arms, smiling. "You sound really happy. That's a good thing, no matter the circumstances."

Hawke stayed for hours in Aveline's office, the two of them catching up and sharing a bottle that Aveline apparently kept in her bottom drawer. Not once did Aveline shoo Hawke from her desk.

 

Hawke bounced down the dozens of stairs from the Keep and across the courtyard to her home. The hearth was burning and Alfie slept by the fire snoring and kicking his feet. She made her way upstairs to her room where she found Anders. He was sitting at her writing desk, a few bits of parchment spread out across it. His head rested on the papers, his eyes closed. She drank him in, the peaceful look on his face as he slept making her smile. A quill sat loosely between the fingers of his left hand, dripping ink in a large circle on the bottom of the paper he had been writing on. She sighed happily and moved up behind him. She slipped her hands inside his tunic, warming her fingers with a touch of mana and massaging just hard enough to wake him. The smile that spread across his face before his eyes even opened, knowing it was her, made her dig her fingers a little deeper into his muscles. He hummed in satisfaction, relaxing even further as his muscles eased. "That feels really good."

She traced her hands around his collar and moved in front of him as he sat up slowly, placing her between him and the desk. "Working on your manifesto again?" she asked, sitting in his lap.

"I must have lost track of time. What happened with Aveline? Is she all right?" he asked, resting his hands on her hips. She was still in her armor, so his attempts to run his thumbs along her bare skin under her belt made her mildly frustrated as the clothing got in the way.

"I'm pretty certain that Donnic has seen the light," she said with a smirk before leaning in to capture his lips.

He kissed her back, his tongue slipping into her mouth briefly as he reached up and palmed the back of her head. When they pulled away he smiled. "I have a surprise for you."

"Ooh, I love surprises!" She gasped.

He stood, holding her against him so she wouldn't fall and once they were up, she lowered her feet back to the floor. "Come on."

He led her to the washroom where he had filled the tub and set candles up all around. His face flickered in front of her in the dim glow of the lights as he circled the tub and laid a hand on the side. She saw the water begin to steam as he heated it with his magic. Then he came back to her and pulled her into a hug. "What's all of this for?" she asked with a smile.

"You do so much for everyone else. When do you ever take the time for yourself?" he asked, pulling back to caress her cheek. He moved behind her and reached around to unbuckle her armor from her, relieving her of the weight of the bits of enchanted metal she had added to Aveline's gift over the years.

Hawke could smell the scent of bath salts and scented oils as the air filled with the steamy water, and it was admittedly attractive. Her baths were never quite so luxurious. He removed all of her clothes, and stood behind her, his hands slipping up around her stomach. He carefully avoided her ticklish spot, and she felt his magic briefly reach out and touch her core. He hummed happily in a short chuckle that felt relieved. "What was that about?" she asked him, turning in his arms to reach her hands inside the neck of his tunic.

"We've been so caught up in each other, and exploring every part of one another, that we have been careless. I was just making sure we hadn't been _too_ careless. Watching you fight bandits today... when you got knocked into that rock by that mage's spell, my heart lurched and it wasn't because I thought you might be hurt, it was because..." he sighed and lowered his eyes.

"You thought I might be pregnant?" she guessed, lifting his gaze back to her.

"It's foolish... Grey Wardens aren't supposed to be able to have children, but that is no excuse for how careless we've been. Are you even taking herbs?" he asked her, running his palms down her shoulders.

She bit her lip sheepishly. "I guess I hadn't considered..." She shrugged.

He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "I have some at the clinic. I'll bring them home with me tomorrow. Let's forget about it for now. I didn't prepare this for it to go to waste." He took her hand and she stepped into the large tub, reveling in the warm water as she submerged her body. The combination of salts he had used, tingled invitingly against her skin.

She glanced up at him as he watched her with a smile. "Well, are you going to join me, or just stand there staring?" she teased, flicking water from her fingers in his direction.

He chuckled before sitting on the edge of the tub and running his fingers along the top of the water, playing his tantalizing electricity trick. The currents floated on the water, finding every inch of her and setting her nerves on fire. As payback, she reached up and grabbed hold of his tunic, pulling him into the tub with her.

"Oops," she hummed. "Look, now your clothes are all wet." She reached up to run her fingers through his dripping hair and he set an amused glare on her. "I guess you'll just have to take them off to dry."

He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it over the edge of the tub. It hit the floor with a wet smack and he slipped out of his pants. When they joined the pile, he pulled his legs the rest of the way in, bending them at the knees because they were too long to fit properly. She shifted in the water so she was sitting in his lap, her back pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against him. "There are easier ways to get me out of my clothes," he teased.

"But none of them would have been as fun," she joked back.

"I love how facetious you are," he said, his lips brushing against her earlobe before he took it in between his teeth lightly. "If by some miracle this world doesn't tear us apart and we ever do have children, I hope they take after you, love."

"And I hope they are as witty and charming as you," she returned, leaning back into the small soft kisses he was laying on her neck.

One of his hands wandered over her skin beneath the water while the other held her against him, his palm cupping her breast. His fingers slipped between her legs and caressed around her opening, drawing a soft moan from her lips. She leaned her head against his, letting him explore her with his fingers. The bath and his attention was relaxing and she hummed in pleasure as she felt him growing beneath her. The orgasm hit her more quickly than she had anticipated before he even dipped inside. She gasped and shuddered, reaching up one of her arms behind her head to pull his lips to hers, muffling the choked and wordless 'ah' that had her throwing her head back when he shocked her. "Bloody Maker," he gasped at the sound, his erection twitching against her backside. "Slow down, love."

Her chest heaved, her heart pounding beneath his palm that still rested on her sternum. "Sorry," she chuckled. "That thing you do..." she hummed. "You're going to spoil me."

His laughter shuddered through her. He leaned over and kissed her neck again. "I'm glad you like it."

After giving her a moment to calm her twitching loins, he breathed a happy chuckle against her cheek as she leaned her head back against him, and his hand found her again. This time, he behaved himself, slowly building her to a relaxing climax before depriving her of completion. She gasped as his fingers slipped out of her and then she rolled in the water, facing him and wrapping her legs around him. She used her legs to pull him inside her, fighting the water for every inch. He grunted as she ground against him and rolled her hips, the water sloshing around them in small waves. She pulled his mouth to hers and their movement was hindered, but the tiniest hint of friction between them drove them both wild. She watched him throw his head back as he pulsed inside her, the expression on his face and the twitch of his loins bringing her right along side him. Her nails dug into his chest, leaving a trail of red beneath each of her fingers as she cried her pleasure.

She slouched in his lap, his hands resting on her hips. When her breath returned, she shifted her legs and slowly dragged herself off of him, making them both writhe momentarily before she turned and leaned her back against him again.She was sated and content as he held her in the water, warming it again, making his magic seep over her. She hummed in appreciation. "Have you ever noticed how our magic resonates together?" she asked, taking one of his hands and pressing her own palm against his, pushing a small amount of mana toward him. He bounced it back to her with a chuckle.

"It's called core harmony. They taught us about it in the Circle. It's actually quite rare," he explained. "Our mana flows on the same timbre which is why you feel that tingle just beneath your skin whenever I cast near you."

"And you can feel it when I cast?" she asked.

"It's one of the reasons I find you so irresistable. I felt like I was fighting my own skin when I rejected you all of those times," he said with a deep sigh. "And I swear I will spend the rest of our lives making that up to you."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're forgiven," she said with a throaty laugh.

They sat together in the tub until Hawke felt herself beginning to doze off. Anders nudged her and a soft laugh shook his chest. "Let's get you to bed, love. It's been a long day."

When they got out of the tub, he handed her a towel that she wrapped around herself as he covered up with his own. He turned to her, his chest bare. "Aren't you going to heal those?" she asked as she noticed the scratch marks still stark red.

"No," he said pulling her against him. "I like seeing how much you enjoyed yourself. If that means my chest stings for a few days, then so be it."

She huddled in his arms as they walked back to her room. He shut the door behind them and they crawled into the bed. Hawke relaxed against him, her hand wrapped up in his over his heart while his other arm hugged her close. He kissed her head. "I love you," she whispered, the relaxing warmth from the bath falling back over her.

"Good night, love," he whispered back.

 

She was finally in the Gallows reporting to Emeric what she had found, but for whatever reason, she could not find the man. She was about to give up and leave to come back later when a young girl in templar plate jogged up to her. "Aren't you Hawke? Emeric left not long ago. He said you'd arranged to meet tonight."

"Did I tell him that? I must have completely forgotten," Hawke said, knowing that she had most definitely not told him that.

"Don't you remember sending this message?" the girl asked, handing over a quickly scrawled letter with an address on it.

"I didn't send this," she said in exasperation.

"You didn't?" the girl asked. "Strange."

"That's not a good sign," Varric grumbled, taking the note from Hawke to read it over.

"Well, I don't know," the girl shrugged. "Emeric's been acting strangely for months. It's probably just a misunderstanding."

Hawke nodded slowly and excused herself. "We might want to check this out," Varric said, shaking the paper.

"Emeric could definitely be in trouble. What's that address?" she agreed.

They made their way to the meeting point as the sun was heading down for the evening. Emeric was dead when they arrived, a gaggle of shades huddled around a desire demon that had her hand through his chest. Hawke cursed and began hurling magic at the demon. The others broke off, killing the shades while she handled the demon. When the threat was gone, Hawke knelt by Emeric, closing his eyes. A clatter of armor drew her attention and she saw the girl from the Gallows running toward them. "Some mage sent that thing here to kill him. Why would anyone..." she paused and then rubbed her forehead and grumbled. "Oh, Maker... the murders. Emeric was right. He was getting too close." She looked up at Hawke. "He suspected a man named Gascard Dupuis. Did he do this?"

Hawke sounded skeptical even to herself as she said, "I can't be certain of anything. Gascard may have tricked me..."

"Then we need to find him. Do you know where he is?" the girl asked desperately.

"He said he was going to Darktown," Hawke said with a shrug.

"Darktown's a big place, but we'll find him. He's an apostate and Meredith will want him hunted down... I will speak to the city guard about this. Gascard DuPuis will not escape."

Hawke left before more templars showed up. She and Anders dropped off the others and headed back to the mansion. When she stepped in to the foyer, it was to raised voices in the common room. "Enchantment!" Sandal said excitedly.

"No. Leandra! Lee-Ann-Drah!" her uncle Gamlen shouted in frustration.

Hawke sighed and stepped through the door to see Gamlen looking down on a blankly staring Sandal. "Shouting won't make him understand you better, you know."

"There you are!" Gamlen grunted turning away from Sandal to sprint to her. "Where's your mother? Is she feeling all right?"

"I'm tempted to say she isn't, just to see your reaction," Hawke threatened facetiously.

"Your mother didn't show up for her weekly visit. Is she ill? She is here, isn't she?" Gamlen asked in a panic.

Hawke knew her mother visited Gamlen, but she also had other friends that she would meet for tea on occasion. Bodhan approached, putting an arm around Sandal. "No, Gamlen. We haven't seen her all day."

"Where could she be?" Gamlen asked.

"With her suitor, perhaps?" Bodhan suggested with a shrug.

Leandra had mentioned having an interest in possibly remarrying a few days after Anders had moved in, since Hawke had outgrown her. She felt like she was imposing on her life. Gamlen seemed less convinced than Hawke however. "Suitor? Leandra never mentioned a suitor."

"Well, those lilies arrived for her this morning," Bodhan said, indicating a bouquet of flowers displayed on the message desk. Hawke felt the room spinning as Gascard's words came back to her.

Anders' hand fell on her shoulder as she stumbled. Her voice came out choked. "White lilies. I know something about that..."

"Don't just leave me waiting. What is it?" Gamlen asked taking another step toward her.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and said, "There's a killer in Kirkwall who sends his victims white lilies before he takes them. He's murdered several women already." This was all happening too fast. She needed to think. "I know someone who might be able to help." She looked to Anders whose face was stricken. "Gascard DuPuis."

"No. You're wrong. Leandra is fine," Gamlen insisted. Hawke prayed that he was right.

"It doesn't hurt to be optimistic." Her blood was rushing so loudly through her veins that she could barely hear herself.

"Maybe... maybe Leandra took another path to my house. I could've just missed her. I'm going back to Lowtown," Gamlen hurried from the house.

Bodhan moved to pat Hawke's arm. "You should help Gamlen look for your mother. You might be able to track her more easily once night falls and the streets empty out. All right. The boy and I will stay here in case she returns."

Hawke was already moving before he finished. Her racing heart propelled her feet as quickly as possible to Fenris' mansion. She pounded on the door, her limbs shaking. When he answered with a frown she nearly shouted at him. "Mother's missing. I need you."

Since he had just arrived home as they had, he was still dressed and he had answered his door, sword in hand as usual, so he simply stepped from the door and closed it behind him. She darted away from Hightown, picking up Varric as they passed through Lowtown to find Gascard. Anders was breathlessly explaining to the other two as she nearly ran through the grimy streets, hunting for the mage. When she finally came upon him, she ran up to him. "Gascard!"

He turned to regard her breathless and terrified expression. "Hawke? What are you doing here? Do you have something?"

"You... could say that. I think my mother's been taken," she said in a rush.

"By the killer? That's... not good." That was the understatement of the age. "I didn't expect him to strike again so soon." He paced away from her to lean on the rail near his hiding spot. "Remember Alessa, the woman you rescued? Just as I predicted, he took her not long after you found us. I have enough of her blood for one ritual. I can use it to track them. It will lead us straight to the killer."

Without preamble or her usual slew of questions, Hawke stepped forward and said, "Use the blood. I need to find my mother."

She was desperate. What was one blood magic ritual compared to getting her mother back safe? Gascard straightened and took a vial of blood from his doublet pocket. "Stand back. If there is anything left of Alessa in this world, this ritual will find it."

He pulled a knife out, and quickly slit his wrist. Blood poured from the wound, dripping over the vial and he released some mana into the air. Blood magic always felt like getting trapped in spider webs and Hawke cringed as Gascard's skin cracked and glowed a bright red. She remembered in the Fade when the sloth demon had reacted similarly when she'd made the false deal. Gascard was dealing with a demon to cast this spell. His body stiffened and lifted into the air before a blast of energy exploded from him and he dropped to the ground. In his hand, the vial glowed softly. He struggled to his feet, Hawke moving to help him stand. After a few moments of stumbling, he looked down at the vial and began to walk without a word.

Hawke followed close on his heels, her nerves spiking as her heart continued to pound in her head. When they made their way up from Darktown and Gascard turned toward the Foundry district, she whimpered. He led them straight to the building where they had encountered the shades and found Ninette's bones. "We've been here before, haven't we?" Varric commented as they got inside.

"I wonder if we'll find more than just a sack of bones this time," Anders said, scowling at Gascard like he had been doing since the ritual.

"Mother must be here, somewhere," Hawke whimpered. "We need to look around."

"Hmm... bloodstains on the floor," Gascard pointed. "My spell indicates that Alessa is close by. We're in the right place. Let's look around," he repeated Hawke's suggestion.

Hawke barreled forward, finding more dark red patches in a trail. "There. More blood. They _are_ here, somewhere." She felt her own voice waver and she hated how terrified she sounded.

Anders was throwing waves of calming mana at her, and in spite of that, she was still functioning around a hard rock in her gut, her heart pulsing in her ears. Varric grunted as they entered one of the upstairs rooms. "Looks like someone forgot to conceal the door to his hideout."

In the corner of the room there was a small hatch in the floor. Hawke dashed to the hatch and dug her fingers between the boards. "This wasn't here before..." she struggled with the hatch, her shaking hands nearly useless. Anders and Fenris both knelt beside her, Anders calmly moving her aside so they could wrench the hatch from the floor. "Mother must be down there... with him."

Varric took hold of her elbow and squeezed. When the door lifted, Fenris dropped in first, his markings beginning to glow so he could see in the dark. Anders helped to lower Hawke down after him and then Varric dropped in after her followed by Anders and then Gascard. Hawke surged forward, heedless of whatever danger might be lurking. The tunnel led them down toward a section of sewers. It had been expanded and evidence of life proved that there was indeed someone down there. Nearly as soon as she passed the first bit of furniture, Fenris' hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her back. Several shades and two demons of rage clawed their way from the ground. "You're being reckless," he growled before releasing her and joining the fray as Anders and Gascard fought off the rage demons.

Hawke took a breath in an attempt to calm herself, and the scent of sulfur pouring from the demons nearly choked her. She started to cast, weak and nervous spells slipping from her staff to whittle slowly away at the shades. Her focus was sundered as her emotions toiled around in her chest. When Anders froze the last rage demon and Fenris rushed in to shatter it with his sword, Hawke straightened and took a look around. A short distance away in a dark alcove there was a table sitting beside a large tub. On the table laid a woman's figure, their back to them Hawke gasped and rushed over. "Mother!" She touched to cold body and it rolled onto it's back. Her second gasp sent her reeling as Alessa stared up at her with hollow glassy eyes. "Alessa..." she exhaled, partly in relief, but still they needed to press on.

She allowed Fenris and Varric to push her to the rear of the pack as they followed the tunnels. They rounded a corner where a slight breeze shifted the air and she gagged, "Oh, Maker's Breath, that smell..." It was like a combination of decay and chemicals. She rested the back of her hand over her nose as she adjusted to being forced to breathe the scent and her stomach rolled.

She felt Anders' magic swirl around her. "Try a barrier, love. It doesn't help much, but it does a little."

She thanked him with her eyes and when she looked away, her eyes fell on something across the landing at the top of the staircase that they were heading for. She moved to kneel by the shining object. Her heart leapt to her throat and then sunk down into her gut as she recognized it. "Mother's locket. This isn't a good sign," she said, standing and draping the precious necklace around her own neck to rest beside Carver's Lifeward amulet.

Down the stairs, the largest room yet was well lit by a hearth and there were books and papers strewn all around a small table in the middle. Anders, ever the scholar, moved in closer to study some of the papers and books, while Varric curled back his lip, noticing a bed and other personal pieces of furniture. "Does he _live_ down here?"

"This is quite the collection of books... Blood magic, necromancy... where did he get all these?" Anders commented, flipping through the stacks.

Hawke almost said 'who cares' when one of the books slid from the table and more shades appeared. They fought them off and then another rage demon appeared before the hearth, drawing Hawke's attention in that direction with it's liquid growl. She backed up and as she did so. She looked above it's head, seeing the painting above the mantle. It was surrounded by candles and flowers, most of which were wilting. The subject could have been Leandra. She stood stock still, staring at the painting while the others took care of the demon. When it was gone, she ran up to where it had appeared and managed to choke out her thoughts. "What... is this? The woman in the painting... She almost looks like Mother."

"A shrine dedicated to a wife? A sister?" Anders suggested, moving to her side and rubbing a hand over her back.

"I need to find her," she grunted, spinning and shrugging him off. "Now."

There was another narrow hallway out of the room that bent in a U shape and spilled them down more stairs into another cavern. The smell was intense here and Hawke swallowed the nausea in her gut. The other end of the room was dark, but Hawke could make out a figure moving around in the shadows. Suddenly, a croaking voice filled the space. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Leandra was so sure you'd come for her."

Hawke's hands balled into fists as a man in mage robes stepped into the light. He was easily in his fifties, but his face was marked and wrinkled, giving the impression that he could be much older. She noticed the clear signs of magical overuse, rings under his eyes and a haggard appearance. His skin had a translucent and sickly pallor and the grin on his lips was malicious. "Mother always knew me best," Hawke growled.

"Yes, and she spoke so fondly of you. What a lovely, gentle woman," he continued. His use of tense when referring to Leandra was making Hawke's heart clench in her chest and she was fighting to stay standing as dread washed through her.

"Quentin!" Gascard shouted, pushing past Hawke and her companions to confront the man.

"Gascard? So you've reached me after all these years... I figured you gave up." The man moved a bit closer and Hawke's patience was tested so she moved up to Gascard's side to taunt him.

"Why? Are you afraid? Hoping Gascard would have forgotten what you did?"

"Afraid? Of Gascard?" the man laughed and the sound made Hawke's skin crawl. "No. Gascard respects me too much to kill me."

"Shut up!" Gascard growled. "I'm going to learn your secrets, old man. Everything you kept from me."

Hawke came to the realization that Gascard had indeed played her, but she would deal with him later. "Sorry to interrupt this lovely student-teacher reunion, but where is my mother!" Magic flashed around her hands as her emotions flared.

"Listen to me," Gascard said. "Together, we can defeat Quentin... Once he's dead, you'll have your mother back. And his research and writings will be mine."

"I'm sorry, Gascard," Quentin said, his tone regretful. "When my wife died, I lost all hope. I wasn't able to be the mentor you deserved. But now," He turned and faced away from them, staring into the dark beyond. "My work is finished, and I can teach you as I always meant to. Come back to me, Gascard." He turned and offered an excited smile.

"You'll let me be part of this? You'll teach me the secrets of Necromancy?" Gascard gasped in wonderment. "I..." Suddenly Gascard's throat exploded in a spray of blood and Hawke stepped back out of the line of fire as the bolt stuck from his neck.

She glanced over at Varric who shrugged as Gascard fell, small choking and gurgling sounds interrupting the dreary quiet in the room. He moved to the body when it went silent and put a foot on his back to yank the bolt back out. "What?" he asked at Hawke's expression. "You were going to do that, right?"

Quentin looked at them with disdain. "You will never understand my purpose. Your mother was chosen because she was special, and now she is part of something... greater."

Hawke had had enough. Her magic sparked in her hands again and she took a step toward him. "You're crazy... I get it... Where's my mother?"

Quentin's expression changed to a gleeful and creepy smile. He turned back to the darkness and moved away from Hawke as he spoke, the smile still reflected in his tone even though he almost disappeared from sight. "I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived. Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is? Love... I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers... and at last, her face... Oh, this beautiful face." A shuffling sound had Hawke squinting into the darkness as he continued to rant. "I've searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on this earth will part us!"

Magic began to flood the area, the sticky feel of blood magic swirling around her feet, but all Hawke could see was the figure that appeared from the darkness. It shuffled forward in a white wedding dress, a veil wrapped around it's forehead to fall down the back of it's head. Hawke wished that it had been over it's face because the face staring back at her was horrific. The once vibrant blue of her eyes had a dull and milky cast, and her mouth opened and closed as she reached an arm out toward Hawke. A bloody, jagged scar encircled her neck where her head and been severed from her body and reattached to the barely functioning corpse that was shuffling along the ground. For a split second, Hawke felt absolutely nothing, as if she were floating above her own body and watching like a spectator. Action was happening around her, but she could not drag her eyes from the collection of body parts that had been combined to form a magically reanimated abomination.

Then out of nowhere, rage pooled in her gut and she felt the spark of her own magic racing toward the surface of her skin. The blade of her staff slipped from it's place in the shaft and with a shout, she sparked electricity down the length of the staff and spun with a shout. Her charged blade cut through a cluster of walking corpses that Quentin had summoned to protect himself. The bones and other body parts skittered around her and she took in the sight of the battle raging around her. Everyone was engaged with a seemingly unbeatable amount of shades, corpses and demons. Hawke thought nothing before casting the barrier around her loved ones and unleashing all of her fury in a maelstrom of flames and carnage that swirled around the entirety of the room. One by one, the shades fell to ash and the demons melted away. As the firestorm continued to set the room ablaze, Hawke focused her attention on Quentin, whose arcane shield was quickly losing power under the assault of her magic. She reeled in the fiery death and stepped right up to Quentin as his shield fell. She grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him to her, the tears that had been drying up immediately in the heat finally allowed to drip down her cheeks. Her free hand twirled her staff, charging the blade and she rammed it hilt deep in his chest. And then yanked it back out in a spray of blood, watching closely as the light left his eyes. Then the hand on his robes was wreathed in flame and she held onto his corpse until it began to melt in her grip. Then she dropped it and stumbled away from it. A soft moan made her turn and the image of her mother was shuffling toward her. She rushed to her side and she thought she called out, but she couldn't be certain around the tears. The body fell into her arms and she guided her to the floor, cradling her against her like an infant.

From somewhere nearby, Anders' gentle and calming voice spoke words that she hated to hear. "There's nothing I can do. His magic was keeping her alive."

Hawke looked down at her mother and tried to imagine her as she had been, not the atrocity staring back at her. She shifted the weight in her arms and lifted her limp arm, placing it over her stomach in a more comfortable position. "I knew you would come," Leandra said in a cracked and scratchy voice.

Hawke felt the tears drying up and her body took over, shoving her emotions into a pit and covering them with dirt. Her mask slipped on unbidden and she choked on her tongue as her mouth spat out words amongst a maniacal chuckle. "You know me. I always save the day."

"Shh..." Leandra said, knowing her well enough to recognize her coping mechanisms. "Don't fret, Darling." Hawke picked at some dirt on Leandra's face and then occupied her free hand by pressing it over her chest to feel the skipping, unsteady thump of the heart in her chest as Quentin's magic seeped away. "That man would have kept me trapped in here. But now... I'm free. I'll be with Carver and Bethany... and your father. But you'll be all alone."

Hawke closed her eyes and breathed heavily, her chest tight with anguish. "I'll be fine, Mother," she insisted, always the rock of the family.

"My little girl has become so strong. I love you. You've always made me so... proud..." The thumping beneath Hawke's palm ceased and Leandra's gaze went unseeing. Hawke reached up and closed them, unable to bear her staring.

For the next few minutes, Hawke could not account for anything that went on around her. She knew that her mother's body was taken from her and she was moved out of the way as Anders took the burden of cremation. After that, her mind was on automatic. Her boys led her from the wretched place and back to Lowtown. Varric expressed his need for a very stiff drink before heading to the Hanged Man and Anders and Fenris escorted her home. She wasn't certain where they went, but she remembered going to her room, stripping her armor and changing into a simple tunic and hide outfit at Anders' urging before he disappeared. Then she found herself in the reading room, staring into the fire as it danced in a sea of visions. With shaking hands, she numbly filled a glass from the decanter of whiskey that she kept on a table where a lot of her reading subjects wound up being tossed when she didn't feel like climbing the stairs to reshelve them. Then she dropped into one of the wingbacks in front of the fire, her skin clammy and her stomach upset, and tuned out the world.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Gamlen barreled in, looking disheveled and concerned. "Did you find her?"

Hawke cringed and spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. "I'm sorry, Uncle. She's gone." The words tasted toxic as they poured from her lips.

"You were right about the flowers and everything... I... I can't believe she's gone," Gamlen said, his shocked tone slipping into sorrow as the news settled on the room like a suffocating weight.

"You can say that over and over, but it won't change anything," Hawke snapped, taking a deep pull of her drink.

Gamlen suddenly sobbed and buried his face in his palms. "Why her? Why Leandra?" The second part was an angry demand and Hawke stood to move closer to the fire, crossing her arms over her waist, the glass resting on her forearm as she clutched it tightly still.

"Mother's gone... Will knowing why ease the pain?" she responded, unable to bear repeating the horrible thing she had witnessed in Quentin's lair.

"No, it won't," Gamlen agreed with a snarl. "It will always seem senseless, won't it?" He hung his head before his face twisted in rage and he shouted. "Where's the one who did this to her?! Did you find the person who killed Leandra?"

Hawke deigned to glance away from the fire and nod stoically at Gamlen. "Let's just say his killing days are over..."

"It won't bring Leandra back, but I'll take comfort in knowing that..." He turned to head back out of the room, pausing to speak over his shoulder. "I should talk to the city guard, make arrangements to retrieve Leandra... Leandra's body."

Hawke's stomach clenched at the mention of the guard. Aveline had been friends with Leandra. She would be devastated. "It's been taken care of," Hawke said dryly.

"Of course," he said sadly, his eyes lowering to the ground. "Take care, my dear."

Then he left her alone again. She felt the sudden urge to redecorate her walls Fenris style, but she clenched her fist around the crystal glass and suppressed the urge to fling it across the room. Instead, her magic flared, heating up the air around her. She spun and moved to the table, pouring herself more, downing it quickly and then slamming the glass down onto the table. She gripped the edge of the wood, leaning heavily on the table, her heart hammering. She didn't know what to do with the torrent of emotions she was dealing with. The scent of burning wood finish reached her nostrils and she pulled her hands away from the table, seeing the blackened and smoking imprints of her fingers. She cradled her hands against her chest and backed away from the table. She inhaled long and deep and then released the breath in a whoosh of air from her lungs that seemed to take everything out of her. She felt tired and angry and her mana was seeping out of her in her grief. She left the reading room and shuffled her way back up to her bedroom and then lost purpose. Everywhere she looked, reminded her of her mother. A soft whimper sounded from the doorway and she turned. Alfie was standing at the threshold of her bedroom, his intelligent brown eyes looking at her beneath concerned eyelids. She knelt and beckoned for him and he lowered his head to sniff his way to her, trying to discern her mood with his nose. His head bumped her hands first and then he nudged under her arm to put himself in her lap like he had done when he was a puppy. "You big oaf," she sighed as the 15 stone dog flopped himself down on her, and whimpered. She curled her upper body around him, burying her face against his fur. "It's just you and me left from Lothering now, boy." A high pitched squeak issued from his mouth every time he exhaled, making her heart hurt even worse. Mabari understood what you were saying. They could comprehend life almost as well as a human. He was mourning right alongside her. He lifted his head and wrapped his neck around hers in a Mabari hug before pulling back to lick her face. For once, she didn't push him away. Instead, she pulled him closer, deterring the licking as she hugged him.

She sat by the fire with Alfie in her lap on the floor until her legs fell asleep. He seemed to understand and got up to nudge her one last time before padding from the room. She dragged herself up to sit on the edge of her bed, alone with her thoughts and the recurring image of her mother reaching out for her with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. She closed her eyes against the images, but that only made them worse. She jumped when Anders' voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked over and he was slowly approaching her from the doorway, still in his armor. He had set his staff just inside the doorway against the wall. "I know nothing I say will change it. I'm just... I'm sorry." He paused and assessed her expression as she turned her face away from him to hide the stricken look she felt narrowing her eyes. "You were lucky to have her as long as you did. When the pain fades, that's what will matter," he said softly.

"I didn't try hard enough to save her," Hawke choked, thinking of all the times she had put off the raid on DuPuis and then how long it had taken her to report back to Emeric. Guilt entered her heart like a dagger and she cringed.

"She wouldn't want you to blame yourself," he chided, moving so he was silhouetted by the fire.

A short bark of laughter fell from her like she was vomiting up a brick. The sound felt wrong and unbidden. "You don't know my mother."

"No," he said, cringing at the sound as well before sitting down beside her on the bed. "And I'm sorry I never will." His hand found the small of her back and he said, "I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

Hawke was never the type who needed comforting. She was the eldest, the strength, the backbone of the Hawke family, but she wasn't needed for that anymore. She was the only Hawke left. That realization hit her like a stonefist to the gut and she whimpered, pulling her feet up onto the bed and leaning into Anders' body, sitting in the fetal position. His arm closed around her shoulders and his other came around her legs. He kissed her head gently and then his cheek rested where he had kissed. As he held her, he slowly became her rock, anchoring her against the storm of her grief. For once, she took the comfort, allowing him to shoulder her for just a little while. She began to sob and once the dam broke, there was nothing she could do. She grabbed a hold of the feathers of Anders' pauldrons and pulled him against her, burying her face in his chest. Her chest heaved as it became difficult to breathe around the grief. Her body shuddered, jerking in his arms and he simply held her tighter. His words fell softly around her, telling her it was okay. She was free to grieve. "That's it, love. Let it all out." He ran his fingers through her hair. Somehow, she wound up in his lap, still clinging to him as if he might disappear if she let go.

When the tears slowed and her muscles loosened, she heaved one last deep, shuddering breath before relaxing against him. "I don't feel better," she realized aloud.

"It will hurt for a while. She was your mother, love," he said, pulling back to brush her long bangs from her face.

She found that she couldn't talk about it anymore. All that did was make her angrier. She rubbed her fingers across both of her cheeks and sniffed, coiling her emotions back where they belonged. She cleared her throat. "Where did you go after you dropped me off?" she wondered.

"Fenris and I thought it best if we went back and collected those books of Quentin's. No need in leaving them where someone else could get a hold of them," he said. "We brought them back here. I put them in the Library so you can deal with them whenever and however you wish."

Hawke nodded, not hearing much past, "You and Fenris agreed on something? Apparently the world is ending."

"So it would seem," he agreed with a soft chuckle, pulling her head to him and kissing her forehead. "Why don't we get to bed. It's been a long day."

She agreed quietly, letting him scoop her up and lay her back down on her usual side of the mattress. He stripped down to his small clothes and climbed in beside her, pulling the sheets up around them. She huddled against him her head on his chest so she could hear the reassuring thump of his heart. After she had lashed out so many times with her magic and then cried her throat ragged, sleep came easily to her but her dreams were plagued with Fade spirits that took on the form of her undead mother and chased her through Darktown. It was not a good night's rest.

 


	13. Templars and Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke helps Merrill in her quest to repair her mirror, Cullen tries to make nice, and The Bone Pit is robbed.

Life was quiet for a while. Hawke continued to visit her workers at the Bone Pit, and she made an effort to be more a part of her friends' lives. While dragging Anders to visit Merrill one day, about a year after her mother's death, the elf giggled excitedly when they entered, beckoning them to her bedroom. Hawke followed on her heels and cocked her head at the large broken mirror standing in the corner of the room. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Merrill crooned.

"Of all the giant mirrors in your house, Merrill, this is easily the nicest," Hawke said with sarcasm, noting the cracks and missing pieces of glass in the mirror's core. Someone was going to have a streak of bad luck.

"I knew, if anyone would understand, you would," Merrill said gently, her shoulders slumping. Anders was standing a good way back from the mirror, his nose wrinkled and his arms crossed. "I've spent the last few years restoring this. Two of my clan stumbled across it in a ruin. We never found Tamlen, and Lyna came back... poisoned by the Eluvian. Sick just from being near it."

"Did your clan member recover?" Hawke asked, finding herself taking a step back from the mirror.

"She had the Blight corruption, the Keeper said. Marethari's magic was keeping it at bay, but not forever. She finally succumbed," Merrill sighed sadly.

"So what _is_ an Eluvian?" Hawke asked, repeating what Merrill had called the mirror.

"Long ago, the elves had a kingdom," Merrill dragged her eyes off of the mirror and turned to face Hawke while she explained. "An empire that covered Thedas. And every city had an Eluvian. The mirrors let them communicate across their empire, but I don't know how exactly." She turned back to the mirror. "My people have lost so much. We know almost nothing of the days before Arlathan. This is a piece of our history." She ran her fingers down the edge of the mirror.

"This thing is what made the Keeper send you away, isn't it?" Hawke crossed her arms.

"The Keeper wanted me to destroy the fragment I kept. She said our ancestors meant it to be forgotten. But it's a Keeper's place to remember. Even the dangerous things. We argued. I... left. She's wrong. This mirror could teach us so much about who we once were!"

Hawke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tell me you didn't bring the killer mirror to Kirkwall just because it's pretty..."

"It's not dangerous, I promise!" Merrill turned to face Hawke, waving her hands in front of her. " I fixed it. Or tried to. With blood magic." she wrung her hands together and Anders grunted. "The mirror won't hurt anyone."

"I cringe every time she says that. She has no idea what she's messing with," Anders groaned.

"I do!" Merrill insisted, her own glare matching his. "I have it totally under control." Then she paused to scratch her head. "But... it doesn't work. I've tried everything, and I think it's because it needs to be finished with a special tool. An arulin'holm. And my clan has one. It's been in their hands for generations."

"I hear a 'but' coming," Hawke said, crossing her arms.

"I can't go back there alone," Merrill pleaded. "You have no idea... the Keeper... I can't talk to her. We fight or talk circles around each other." Merrill's fingers fiddled with each other. "She has a disappointed frown that turns your bones to jelly. Please help me? You will, won't you?"

Hawke let out a deep sigh. "I'll go with you." Something about Merrill wouldn't let her say no.

"Ma Serannas! I'll find some way to repay you, I promise!" She grabbed both of Hawke's hands in hers and squeezed.

The day was still early. "Go to the Hanged Man and fetch Varric. I need to go change," Hawke said, giving the mirror one last flick of her eyes. "Meet me at my place?"

Merrill nodded emphatically. When they got outside her house, Anders took Hawke's hand and pulled her toward the Vhenadhal tree to whisper as Merrill continued on toward the Hanged Man, oblivious. "Why are you helping her?"

"I've known Merrill almost five years, Anders. With all of the blood magic she uses, if it were going to happen, I'm pretty sure she would be an abomination by now," Hawke teased with a smirk.

He pursed his lips and frowned, but when she reached up and touched her finger to his lips to push them back into place, they spread into his own smile as he rolled his eyes. "Just so you know, I was coerced into this." He pulled her against him and bent to kiss her softly.

They headed back to their place and both of them changed into their armor and donned their staves. When they left, Varric and Merrill were waiting outside. "Daisy tells me we're going to visit the elves. You're not going to make me climb Sundermount again, are you, Hawke?" Varric asked as he fell into step beside her.

"I make no promises, Varric, but the summer air is good for you." She reached down and punched his shoulder with a grin.

"So is the stale air of the Hanged Man," he chuckled.

While they walked from the city and Hawke stretched her arms over her head, Varric kept pace with her as Anders and Merrill took the lead, Anders with his long legs and Merrill practically skipping. Merrill was chatting to Anders, her mouth running off with her, and Hawke overheard a bit of the conversation before they got too far away. "Are you happy?" Merrill said, the topic dropping out of nowhere.

Anders balked and his brow rose as he glanced at her. "Beg your pardon?"

"She seems happy... Hawke, I mean. Are you?" Merrill said, likely not realizing that her voice was carrying back to them on the wind.

Anders glanced over his shoulder, offering her a coy grin before saying to Merrill, "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Good. You've spent much too much time being grumpy. It's a nice change," Merrill said grinning and beginning to hum as she flounced along the path.

Varric chuckled softly as Hawke's smile spread wider. "You and blondie do seem to be getting pretty close," he said, much more softly than Merrill had addressed Anders. "So, what's going on, Hawke?"

"Well, well, well. I never thought you were the type, Varric. I'm flattered," Hawke teased.

"It's the chest hair, isn't it?" he said with a sigh and a small grin. "Women can never resist my chest hair. Unfortunately, it's not to be. I'm spoken for."

Hawke let out a falsely disappointed sigh. "Bianca stands in my way again, does she?"

"What can I say," he shrugged. "She's the jealous type." He slowed his pace and his smile briefly faltered. "Listen, as your friend, I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't say something. Maybe, just maybe, getting involved with the possessed mage might be dangerous. There, I've said my piece."

Hawke chuckled as Varric rolled his shoulders like saying that made him feel dirty. "In all the time you've known me, have I ever given you the impression that I was turned _off_ by crazy?"

He laughed out loud. "Okay, point taken."

She nudged him and smiled. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Varric."

"Maker's breath, Hawke, someone has to. You get in more trouble than anyone I've ever known."

"You have me there," she agreed.

He backhanded her arm as they walked as if he were just remembering something. "You have _got_ hear this, Hawke. There's this tale making the rounds... They're saying you single handedly fought off a pirate invasion, at midnight, on the sacred ground of the Chantry."

She frowned and sighed. "Don't the stories mention my stunning good looks? What about my cunning wit?"

Varric shook his head, chuckling. "No, they skip right to the part about the lovable dwarf with the gorgeous crossbow and the heart of gold. I try to steer them straight, but you know how stories go. Just... don't be surprised if people seem in awe."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for you to be the main character in these tall tales of yours?" she wondered as Anders began to lag behind Merrill so they could catch up.

"There's a recipe to a good hero, Hawke. It's like alchemy. One part down-to-earth, one part selfless nobility, two parts crazy, and you season liberally with wild falsehoods. You let that percolate through a good audience for a while, and when it's done, you've got your hero," he explained as Anders slipped his hand in hers, their fingers lacing together as they exchanged a smile.

She smirked and then sighed again, her tone wispy. "I guess awe works. A little reverence wouldn't hurt, though."

"You're beautiful, deadly, and hang out with fantastic dwarves. It would be a crime if people didn't talk about you," Varric listed with an obligatory grin as Anders chuckled. "Anyway, I'll quit exaggerating before it goes to your head."

 

When they made it to Sundermount, Hawke continued to allow Merrill to lead as she crossed the Dalish camp and approached the Keeper. The elves were giving Hawke their usual standoffish glares, but the looks they were shooting at Merrill were downright icy. Marethari's eyes widened when she saw Merrill and she said softly. "You return to us, da'len. Have you reconsidered this path at last?"

"I..." Merrill began to fidget and looked at Hawke.

Hawke stepped in. "Hello again, Keeper! Don't you look lovely!"

Marethari turned her gaze on Hawke and spared a gentle smile. "My apologies, Hawke. Be welcome among the Dalish."

Merrill seemed to regain her nerve and blurted. "Keeper, I need the arulin'holm, the ancient carving blade that Master Ilen keeps."

Marethari sighed. "I see. You wish to rebuild the Eluvian."

"You don't have to approve of it," Merrill said as the Keeper shook her head. "I'm invoking vir sulevanan. I'll do whatever task you wish."

The Keeper crossed her arms and frowned and Hawke imagined Merrill's bones turning to jelly as she set it on her. "Well, I'm glad to know I can still disapprove." She sighed deeply. "It is your right. I will give you a service to perform if you insist."

Hawke frowned, not quite understanding what had just happened. "It's a lot to ask, but could you two try to be less elfy for the sake of the humans present?"

Marethari turned that same frowning expression on her and said, "We are what we are, child, but I'll try to speak more of the common tongue." Her arms fell to her sides as she looked back to Merrill. "A Varterral has taken the lives of three of our hunters. It lives in a cavern in the mountainside. Seek it out. Slay it. No one else must fall to it's anger. Do this for us, and I will give you the arulin'holm. May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."

Merrill led them around the mountain to a hidden path behind the camp. A dark hole carved in the hills appeared to be their destination. It was dank inside and Hawke shuddered in spite of the summer air outside. A strange smell permeated the cave and Hawke wrinkled her nose, pulling her staff from her back and tapping it on the moist ground to light their way. "This is easily the creepiest cave I've seen yet," she commented breathily as the darkness closed around them and her staff became the only light.

Anders' light soon joined hers when they began to hear skittering in the shadows. He knew how she felt about spiders and he stuck close by her, erecting a thin barrier around them so their magic could mingle. Her skin hummed and she took a deep breath and released it in a satisfied sigh as his fingers brushed her bare skin on her left arm. They soon began to stumble upon the bodies of the hunters that the Keeper had told them about, and Merrill collected their clan amulets to return to their families, choking out a short prayer and condolence for each of them.

"What were the hunters doing in here?" Hawke asked, trying to take Merrill's mind from the sad task.

"The Keeper would have sent them to retrieve elven artifacts from the Varterral before the camp had to move again," Merrill explained.

"So, your Keeper sent them to their deaths?" Hawke asked in surprise.

"No," Merrill said indignantly. "Normally, they let the Dalish come and go as we please. Something must have provoked it." Hawke pressed her lips together, hoping that Merrill's demon hadn't been the thing that provoked the Varterral. Anders grunted and Hawke knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

They continued through the cave, and the skittering continued to get louder until the spiders found the promise of fresh meat too much to resist. Several wasp spiders larger than Varric descended on webs from the ceiling and Hawke whimpered, bashing the clacking mandibles of the one closest to her feet, with her staff head, as it reached to nip at her greaves. Her next reaction was fire and she felt Anders' barrier thicken and spread to the others as she called a firestorm down around them in the small enclosed space of the cave. The flames rained down on the spiders, making them attempt to scurry from side to side to avoid the magic, but there were too many of them and the confusion spell that Merrill cast made them flee in the wrong directions, banging into each other and allowing the fireballs to slam on top of them. The shrieks of their deaths made Hawke shudder again as she reeled in her magic. "Let's find this Varterral and end it so we can get out of here."

A few paces ahead, Hawke heard panicked breaths from around a bend in the path and saw a flicker of torch light. She brightened her own staff light and called out into the darkness. "Whoever's hiding had better come out! Unless you're a dragon. Then feel free to keep hiding."

"Hello?" a tentative voice said as a male elf came around the corner, his torch held aloft and a scared expression on his face. "Praise Andra... I mean the Creators. I thought I'd never get out of..." he paused as his gaze fell on Merrill and his eyes widened even further. "Merrill!" he gasped.

She stepped ahead of Hawke. "Aneth ara, Pol. Are you hurt?"

"Stay back!" he warned nervously as he backed away from them, looking terrified. "What do you want from me?!"

"Pol, what's wrong?" Merrill asked, shifting on her feet. "I'm here to help."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" he shouted with more vigor as he continued to back away, brandishing the torch.

Hawke attempted to calm the frightened elf, chuckling a bit and saying, "Merrill couldn't hurt you if she tried. At worst, she might make frowny faces."

"She'll do worse than hurt me," Pol shouted. "Don't you know what she is!?" After that, he turned and fled, shouting. "Creators, help me! Someone, please!"

"Pol, no!" Merrill called after him, but he continued to run, his torch light disappearing. She turned to Hawke, her expression stricken. "We have to catch him, hurry!"

They gave chase after the fleeing elf, his shouts, firelight and footsteps easy to follow in the dark cave. As they entered into a massive cavern inside the cave, the air thickened with what felt like magic, but not any magic that Hawke was used to. It smelled foul and her stomach heaved as she saw the elf ahead of them down a short flight of naturally carved stairs. The cavern shook as loud thumps sounded below where Pol was standing. Hawke attempted to squint to see what was approaching, but instead, she saw Pol turn toward the sound and fall to the ground clutching his chest and dropping his torch. She rushed down the stairs, her staff slowly lighting the cavern and illuminating the creature that was towering over them. It stood easily 20 feet tall on five long spindly legs. The irregular thumping sounds were it's footsteps as it danced around in the space. It's body was wiry and two human like arms jutted from it's dark, stone-like chest. On the underside of each segmented leg were membranous bits of flesh colored muscle that stretched and condensed as it walked. "Hold on Pol! We're coming!" Merrill shouted as the Varterral shrieked in rage, echoing around the cavern and knocking some rubble from the ceiling around the unconscious elf.

Hawke momentarily froze, trying to figure out how they might go about killing the ancient creature. Her first instinct was to slam it with a spirit bolt. The magic drew it's attention to her and it bumbled around to face her. It reared back on it's hind three legs and a great rumbling in it's chest caused her to instinctively dodge out of the way. Moments later, exactly where she had been standing, an acrid pile of spit fell to the ground, sizzling and bubbling. "Stay out of spitting distance!" she shouted as Anders approached closer to begin swinging his staff and hitting it with several different types of magic to see which might work best. Her voice drew it to her again and it stomped one of it's legs, attempting to crush her. As she dodged out of the way, she reached for her mana and grabbed hold of the air above it, yanking down with a fist of the Maker and knocking it off it's feet. As it flailed and tried to get back up, Anders began to cast and the air around them turned frigid. He was summoning a blizzard. Merrill called her Dalish magic and the roots in the ground jutted up to wrap around the flattened legs of the Varterral, holding it in place. Hawke swiped the air in front of her and her fingers danced along her staff as the firestorm began to rain down amidst Anders' blizzard. Merrill crouched, keeping the Varterral pinned and Varric took advantage of the better angle to pepper it's head with bolt after bolt.

After what seemed like ages, the Varterral ceased it's struggling, it's body scorched and bloodied, icicles hanging from it's sharpened mouth. Hawke spindled her remaining mana and Merrill rushed to Pol's side, kneeling beside the motionless hunter. "Pol... maybe it's not too late! You can help him, can't you Anders? You can heal anyone!" Merrill pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Merrill..." Anders choked regretfully. "He's gone."

With the response, Merrill lowered her head over Pol's body and sobbed. "Why did you run?" she squeaked around her tears. "You shouldn't have run..."

Hawke bit her lip, hating to witness Merrill's obvious pain. "Do you need a minute alone?" she asked softly.

Merrill swallowed and stood, clearing her throat. "No. Thank you. I... we have too much to do for me to sit here, bawling. Pol wasn't like the others, He was city born. Worldly... He ran away from Denerim and found us. I thought if anyone would understand, he would. This... something is very wrong. I want to see the Keeper."

After taking his clan pendant, Merrill left Pol's body like the others. With the Varterral dead, the clan would likely send someone to retrieve the bodies to be buried. Dalish tradition planted a tree over the remains under the ground. Life from death. Merrill was frowning hard, the shadows of Hawke's light casting over her face and giving it a sinister glare. Hawke cleared her throat awkwardly, but said nothing.

Finally as they trudged back through the cave, Merrill spoke in a choked tone. "Pol... what was he thinking? He acted like I was a monster..."

Before Hawke could respond, Anders bitterly retorted, "Maybe he was thinking, 'Aaah! Blood Mage!' That seems the most likely scenario."

In spite of the harsh way in which he said it, Hawke tended to agree. The stigma surrounding Merrill's choices was even more taboo outside the Dalish and she had said that Pol had been city born. He had even almost thanked Andraste when they had found him. Some ideas were difficult to break. Merrill was silent for some time again before piping up. Hawke could not have imagined the guilt swimming in her head. "The way everyone looked at me in the camp when we arrived... What have they been saying about me? They must think I'm worse than the Blight!" After more heavy silence she grumbled to herself. "I've never hurt the clan. They had no reason to be afraid of me. None of this makes any sense." Her tone was frustrated, but Hawke could say nothing. She was not well enough versed in Dalish beliefs to understand it all.

When they left the cave and headed for the Keeper, Hawke approached the woman clinically. "The Varterral is dead."

Marethari smiled gratefully and said with a tone to match. "Ma Serannas. I'll breathe easier, knowing we will lose no more people to it."

"We found these," Merrill said sadly, handing over the amulets.

"I'll return them to their families," Marethari sighed, taking the amulets.

Then Merrill held out Pol's. "We lost Pol. In the cave, he... he fled at the sight of me, straight into the Varterral."

As Marethari took the amulet, Merrill's tone made her sigh, knowing explanation was needed. "Many of the clan fear you will bring back the Corruption... or worse... from the mirror."

"And where did they get _that_ idea?" Merrill spat, in the harshest tone Hawke had ever heard from the usually soft spoken mage.

"I am their Keeper, da'len. It was my duty to warn them," Marethari chided. "It's still not too late for you to return to us. Reconsider. There's no need for you to live alone."

"Must we go over this again?" Merrill crossed her arms. "You'll never accept what I'm doing."

"The Eluvian is poison!" Marethari said, her anger seeping out in her voice. It killed Tamlen. It killed Lyna. It led you to Blood Magic.Will you let it twist you further from who you are?"

"And who _am_ I?" Merrill growled. "We've done as you asked. Honor our bargain. Give me the arulin'holm."

Marethari turned her attention away from Merrill. "Hawke... because Merrill won't listen, I give this heirloom of my clan to you for safekeeping." The Keeper produced a sharp and finely crafted knife that shimmered in the summer sun as she passed it to her. "Please... don't let her do this."

Hawke's jaw fell as Marethari left them, magic swirling around her in barely contained anger. "Thank the Creators!" Merrill praised when the Keeper was out of hearing distance. "I thought... maybe she'd go back on her word."

Hawke held the blade against her chest and bit her lip. "Is it worth restoring this mirror if it turns your clan against you?"

Merrill hung her head sadly, her gaze on the grass. "You know what it's like to lose everything, Hawke. Not just our land and freedom, but history, stories, language, magic, rituals. Even our gods are gone!" She sighed. "It is a sacrifice, but if the mirror restores even one fragment of the past, it's worth it!" She pleaded as her eyes lifted to Hawke's in determination.

Hawke felt her arms release their tension and they dropped the knife in front of her for Merrill. "Take the knife. Just try not to cut yourself with it."

"I don't think that's wise, Hawke," Anders piped up. "Whatever she's trying to do with that mirror, it's at the behest of a demon."

"No one asked you!" Merrill snapped as she took the knife from Hawke. Then she turned her gaze on Hawke and smiled. "Thank you. I knew you would understand. Let's be away from here. The others are giving me the evil eye."

 

Back in Kirkwall, Everyone went their separate ways. Hawke decided to give Merrill some time while she did a bit of shopping. She found a few gifts for some friends and then shuffled to the alienage to check in. She let herself in, Merrill having left her door open. She found her sitting on the floor in front of the mirror and gazing up at it, the arulin'holm abandoned on her bed. Merrill heard her approaching and turned to glance up at her before smiling and standing. "Hawke... I could never have faced the Keeper myself. I never imagined a human would help me restore Dalish history. No one ever understood. Not the Keeper, not my clan... just you."

Hawke chuckled. "No offense to your people, Merrill, but anyone who runs into a monster to escape you has their priorities wrong."

"They're... just confused. But it doesn't matter. I'll still save them," she said cheerily. "You're the first real friend I've ever had. Ma serannas, lethallan."

Hawke smiled and fished in her bag for the wrapped gift. "I've got something for you."

Merrill tipped her head and pulled the wrapping from the Dalish statue. It was a small Halla carving made by a Dalish craftsman as the seller told. "Ooh, did you get this from Master Ilen?" Merrill paused as she studied the statue, then her eyes bugged and she looked up in fear. "Mythal! Did I miss some important occasion? I'm so sorry! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

Hawke snorted and pushed the statue closer to Merrill. "I think I missed the Dalish sign for, 'this present induces terrible guilt.' I'll shop more carefully in the future."

"I... of course. You're just being thoughtful," Merrill sighed and hugged the statue to her chest. No one has ever given me a present before. Useful things. Tools, or clothes, because I needed them. Not... just because." She smiled, and Hawke returned the expression. "Ma serannas. I'll find a good place for this."

Merrill offered Hawke some tea, which she politely declined, wanting to get to the Hanged Man and hand over the gift she had found for Varric at the Trinkets Emporium. She made her way through Lowtown, up past her uncle's and to the Tavern. Inside was much the same as always. Varric was not to be seen, so Hawke sauntered over to Isabela to say hello. When Isabela spotted her, she waved to Coriff. "A jigger of your finest whiskey for my friend over here!" When Hawke settled onto the stool beside her, Isabela knuckled her shoulder. "The Hanged Man's finest isn't much, but it'll get you just as drunk as anything you'll find in Hightown."

"And you'll wake up and find someone's stolen your trousers," Hawke said with a smirk.

"That's when you know it's a party," Isabela tittered softly. Then she sighed. "I thought I'd have to watch myself around you, but as it turns out, you're all right."

 _Just all right?_ "What happened to, 'you cast me about like a summer storm, and I loved every minute of it'?" Hawke quoted, with a confident grin, from one of their nights back when they had been together.

Isabela outright chuckled. "You can enjoy a person in a bedroom, but detest their company outside of it. I _don't_ detest your company outside of the bedroom. If I had someone like you onboard my ship when the... storm hit, maybe we wouldn't have been shipwrecked." Isabela lamented.

Hawke shrugged. "Maybe you would have been shipwrecked sooner. I'm a terrible sailor."

Isabela snorted into her drink as Hawke sipped hers. "Are you? I suppose I'll have to keelhaul you till you shape up," she said suggestively and Hawke huffed a laugh.

"Thanks for the drinks, Izzy. Is Varric upstairs?" Hawke wondered.

Isabela shrugged. "I saw him not too long ago. I think he went upstairs. He looked a little upset."

"Thanks," Hawke said again and took her drink and headed up to Varric's suite.

Varric was sitting at his table, head in his hands and reading intently over a bit of paper. She knocked on the open door before strolling in to stand across from him. "Hey Hawke," he said softly.

"Everything all right?" she asked, her brow arching.

"I've got some news," he said, eyeballing her armor and staff. "And maybe you should be sitting down for this. Or drunk. Or both..."

She warily took the seat across from him, turning the chair so she was straddling the back. "Why don't I buy you a pint and we'll talk?" she asked.

He grunted and rubbed his temples. "You just keep making this harder! Although I won't say no to a pint, if you're buying." Hawke flagged down Edwina as she passed, working the upstairs, and ordered two more drinks. Varric sighed and continued when Hawke set her gaze back on him. "I've had an ear out for Bartrand. After the Deep Roads, he ran to Rivain, probably because he knew I couldn't track him. But I hear he might be back in Kirkwall. He called in loans from a few of his contacts in Hightown."

Hawke cocked her head, and studied her friend's torn expression. "How are you holding up, Varric?"

His head shot up and his eyes bugged. "You're asking about _me_? Carver would still be here if it weren't for Bartrand. He has to answer for that. I have to set this right... as much as that's possible." Had Varric been harboring that guilt all this time? Hawke swallowed. He didn't deserve to shoulder all of that. He was such a good liar that she never knew.

She decided to steer toward the facts. It was obvious Varric didn't want to talk about Bartrand's betrayal. "Was he staying in Hightown, or just passing through?"

"If my information is good, and it's always good, he has a house there. Which gives us a good shot at having a word with my dear, sweet brother." Varric's fists closed and he was centimeters from pounding them on the table when the drinks arrived.

"I've really missed Bartrand!" Hawke said lifting her drink toward Varric. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Varric picked up his own and tipped it toward hers. The mugs clinked together and they downed large gulps in agreement. "I agree! Bianca's been missing him something awful. Let's stop by his new house. Welcome him back to the neighborhood, and all that."

Hawke nodded. "Tonight." They sat quietly and finished their drinks before Hawke remembered why she had come in the first place. "By the way," she said, drawing his attention from the bottom of his mug. "I found something with your name on it."

She handed him the shining ring and he glanced at it in awe. "My father's signet ring? Where did you find it? Bartrand pawned it off to pay for the expedition..." He chuckled in disbelief. "I can't believe you found it! This sounds like exactly the sort of fake thing I'd make up about you."

She waved off the achievement and took another sip of her drink around the smile on her face at seeing him happy. "When you tell people, mention that I got it from the belly of a dragon."

"I'll throw in a couple of werewolves and a griffon for balance," he chuckled, admiring the ring. "Well, maybe now my contact at the gates of Orzammar won't ignore my letters. Harrowmont is hoping that if he just shuts his eyes tight and wishes, the real world will go away... Anyway, I owe you one, Hawke. Remind me later to put you on my tab."

She stood from her seat and turned it back to return it under the table. "I'll go fetch Anders from the clinic."

"I'll meet you outside the elf's place," Varric nodded.

Hawke made her way to Darktown and beneath Anders' lit lantern. He was sitting alone, no patients to speak of, and she sauntered over to place herself on his lap between the papers he was hovering over. He smiled at the interruption, setting his quill down and taking her head in his hands to pull her in for a kiss. "I brought you something," she smirked when their lips parted. From her pocket, she pulled out the dangling chain and held it up. "It's shiny and subversive. I thought you'd like it."

He took the small pendant between his long fingers and tore his eyes from hers to study it. "You got me a gift? I hardly think I've done anything to deserve that... Is it a..." when he realized what he was looking at, his eyes widened and he clasped it in his fist. "That's a Tevinter Chantry Amulet! Do you want me to get executed?" he hissed with a slight frown. "It's sacrilege to wear those in any land under the Divine."

Hawke pouted and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Here I thought you fight for mages' rights, whoever's bad side that puts you on," she teased.

"I like it," he corrected, accepting her kiss. "Maybe not on the outside of my clothes... I'm not that eager to face the hangman's noose... but I appreciate the thought." He took the amulet from inside his fist and looked at it again, sparkling in his palm. The serpent and dragon twisted round each other, a mage's staff between them. "I never really thought about what life would be like in the Tevinter Chantry. In the Circle, they make it sound like the Void itself. The Black Divine, stalking Thedas, making it unsafe for kittens and virgins."

"Those kittens and virgins will just have to find a nice strong mage to protect them," she purred, her lips tracing to his ear so she could nibble gently on his lobe.

He let out a pained chuckle as she felt him reacting to her through their clothes. "From what I hear about the Tevinters, that's the last thing they'd want. The virgins, anyway... I've never heard about any horiffic... kitten rituals. I appreciate the gift. Perhaps one day I can return one as meaningful." He turned her chin so he could press his lips to hers, his free hand tracing up her side. She hummed her approval and just as she was about to shift and get a better position, his door came open. They both groaned softly and he looked around her to see who had interrupted.

She stood from his lap, straightening her armor and he closed his eyes, slipping the amulet over his head and tucking it beneath his robes while he breathed deeply. The patient was a young Ferelden mercenary with a stab wound to her gut. It was a simple fix and Hawke watched as Anders patched her up easily. He followed her to the door and when he closed it behind her, Hawke felt the withdrawal of mana that told her he had shut off the lantern. He paced the room in moments, pressing her against the desk, pushing himself between her legs and pulling her mouth to his. "We have a job after this," she moaned as he moved to her neck, caressing his teeth gently over the sensitive area just behind her ear.

His voice was deep as he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her lobe. "If you promise to be a good girl and not set my desk on fire, I can help you get there quicker," he offered around an obvious devilish grin.

His hands were already on her belt, unhooking the leather from the buckle and she moaned and nodded, taking a chunk of his flesh between her teeth and biting down just hard enough that he would have a small mark beneath the short hair that was tucked behind his ear. He grunted and fumbled with her clothes and she chuckled at how easily she affected him even after how long they had been together. He yanked her pants down, her smalls coming with them and she helped him out of his own belt and laces. She took him in her hands as he snaked an arm between them, tracing her folds. As he passed over the sensitive bundle of nerves of her labia, a short spark of electricity ignited her senses and she jerked toward him, her hands squeezing around his erection. She bit her lip and then gasped as he sparked her again. "Inside," she hummed, shifting and rubbing him against her until he was just shy of where she needed him. He pulled his hand away and pushed himself inside, the angle caressing every inch of him along her back wall. A choked moan escaped her as she reached around and gripped his backside, holding him as deep as he could get while her body calmed. He ran his hand up under her clothes and over her spine, trailing electricity as he massaged. She loosened her grip and he began to slowly ease in and out, carefully containing her orgasm until he was with her. She was so close she could practically feel her muscles already tensing. He started to lose rhythym and she knew he was meeting her. She began to move with him, the desk shifting under her weight as they pounded against it and each other. A sharp crack sounded and just as they both came, the desk decided it had enough. He swiftly caught her, her legs wrapping around his waist, as best as she could while her pants were still around her knees, as he held her aloft and they finished with painful laughter as the constricting of their diaphragms both lengthened and pushed their orgasms over the top. He backed into the pillar behind him and leaned against it, burying his face in her neck as he breathed and slowly waited to extricate himself. Hawke turned to glimpse the collapsed desk, Anders' manifesto as well as a few potion bottles and his stuffed kitty were strewn atop the wreckage. "Well, I didn't set it on fire at least."

He barked out more laughter as he slipped out of her and she regained her footing in front of him. "Every splinter was worth it, I think," he said, still grinning as he pushed her hair from her face.

"It always is," she agreed, returning the gesture with a few stray hairs that dangled over his face. "to see you so happy..."

He took her hand in his and turned his mouth into her palm to kiss it gently. "It's all because of you, love." After a moment, of them sharing a short kiss, he said. "We have a job?"

She nodded and dipped to sort out her clothing while she explained. "Varric thinks he's found Bartrand. We're going to pay him a visit tonight."

Anders' eyes flickered blue and he sneered. "The one who abandoned you all in the Deep Roads?" He bent as well, pulling up his pants and lacing them back up.

"The very same," she agreed, fastening her belt in place.

 

The outside of the mansion was dark, no torches or family crests hung in the alcove. "Bartrand really hasn't done much with this place, has he?" Hawke commented as they stood there staring at the ominous facade. She crossed her arms and twitched her hips to the side as Varric hummed.

"I don't get it. My sources saw people making deliveries here just a week ago. This looks like it's been empty for months," he said with a frown.

Hawke's lip curled up in a smirk. "You think he put the cobwebs up to discourage tax collectors?"

Varric hummed. "You're thinking it's a trap? Great! It's been ages since my brother tried to kill me!" He threw his hands up and knelt to try and pick open the lock. It was unnecessary however, the door creaking open at his touch. He sighed and stood slipping inside the dark mansion. Hawke followed close behind.

The small back entry where they had gone in was dark and cramped with stacked barrels and crates. A layer of dust had settled on them and Varric glanced around, his eyes narrowed. Hawke could smell the hint of something offputting, but could not put her finger on what it was. They rounded a corner and Varric took a step back and bumped into her when he saw the handful of bodies strewn around. Hawke knelt beside the nearest corpse and lightly jabbed it with her finger. "These corpses aren't even stiff yet, Hawke," Varric realized. "Somebody's been in here today."

She stood and agreed with a nod. "Let's keep going. Be on your guard."

Nearly as soon as they passed through the door into the next room, several men descended on them from all angles. Hawke pushed into the room first, ducking a swinging sword and immediately cast a mind blast from inside the circle of swarming maniacs. The spell launched them away from her and gave the others a chance to get through the door. Fenris flitted past her, dragging his scent of petrichor and tugging on the veil around her as he activated his marks. Anders' magic hummed over her and the swift click clack of Bianca firing bolts joined the din of the battle. Hawke centered herself as she realized she was still in the middle of the room and the crazed guards were regrouping around her. Just as a sword sliced downwards just shy of her face, she was tugged backwards, drawing a surprised yelp from her as she carefully regained her footing. Anders' spirit arm dissipated and she turned a smirk on him as she began to cast. "Don't man handle me," she chuckled.

"You're welcome, love," he said with a wink, throwing a spirit bolt into the man who had tried to slice her in half.

When she unleashed her force magic and crushed the last man as he ran at Fenris with a shout, Varric closed Bianca's arms and his jaw dropped. "What did my brother do to these men? They were completely out of their heads!"

They met more of the stab first crazies throughout the house, as well as evidence of more unfortunate souls that had not survived whatever had been done to them. Varric was horrified at the sight of his brother's misdeeds, grumbling to himself as they continued to the second floor. A shuffling sound came from their left as they hit the top of the stairs and Hawke reached for her staff as a dwarf stepped into sight from around a corner. "Varric? Is that you? Praise the Ancestors!"

"Hold up," Varric said, placing his arm in front of Hawke as she took a step toward the dwarf. "I know this man. He's Bartrand's steward... Hugin, what happened here?"

The dwarf hung his head and sighed. "Varric, your brother... That statue he brought out of the Deep Roads... Bartrand said it sang to him. Even after he sold it. I've been hiding in here, but the guards... they're like crazed animals, I didn't dare to go past them. Everyone in this house has gone mad!"

"I haven't seen anyone alive in here accept the guards," Hawke pointed out. "What happened to the rest of the staff?"

"I don't know what Bartrand did to them. By the Ancestors, the sounds coming from his study... They're dead by now, I hope," the dwarf said solemnly.

"What do you mean you hope they're dead!" Varric gasped.

"Just... whoever... whatever you find in that room, Varric, give them a merciful death," he pleaded.

Hawke needed to know how Bartrand had turned the guards into such crazed animals. "What did he do to the guard to turn them to this?"

"He's been forcing them to eat lyrium. Some of the servants, he... cut pieces off them while they were still alive. He says he's trying to help them hear the song. Please, stop him," Hugin continued to plead.

"Bartrand's not exactly a nice guy, but..." Varric rubbed his temples. "this doesn't sound like my brother."

"You said he sold the statue?" Hawke asked Hugin. "To who?" If it had done this to Bartrand, Maker knew what it might do to whoever else got their hands on it.

"I don't know. It's why we came back to Kirkwall. He was already starting to rant about the sodding idol and it's singing... On his better days, he hated the thing, wanted to get rid of it. But the minute it was gone, he got worse."

So the man was saying that Bartrand had completely lost it. "I assume when you say mad that you mean he's 'crazy', not just 'really upset'," she grunted, her arms crossing.

"He's hearing things... seeing things... talking to someone who's not there. That's when he's feeling good," Hugin agreed. "Bartrand took the servants and locked himself inside the study. No one's come out for days. And those sodding lunatics just keep prowling the halls."

"Then we go in after him," Varric said, moving toward the locked door beside them. "Come on, Hawke. Let's finish this."

Hugin fled the way they had come in, escaping now that they had taken care of most of the guards. Varric deftly picked the lock into the study and as soon as the door clicked open, Bartrand shouted and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. As Hawke waved her hand in front of her face and choked on the bitter smell from the flash bomb, she felt someone push past her. She stumbled out of the way and then blindly cast a firewall along the top of the staircase so Bartrand couldn't slip away. Fenris grabbed a hold of the fleeing dwarf and held his arms at his sides as he struggled and shouted. "I can't... I can't... hear it anymore. I just need to hear the song again... Just for a minute..." He kicked for Fenris' knees, but Fenris activated his marks and Bartrand's foot slipped right through his wraith form. He cried out again in frustration as Varric approached him with a scowl. Bartrand looked up to the ceiling and growled, "Stop saying that! I know I shouldn't have sold the idol to that woman! It was a mistake! A mistake..." he slumped in Fenris' grip.

"Bartrand! Get a hold of yourself!" Varric growled, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him roughly. "Do you know where you are? Do you know what you've done?"

"Varric!" Bartrand's eyes focused on his brother and relief spread over his featres. "You'll help me, won't you, little brother? Help me find it again? You were always the good one..."

"Help you?" Varric took a step back in disgust. "Bartrand, you left me to die! You left all your men to die! And for what? Some trinket? Look at yourself! Look at what you've done to the men and women who served you! Where's your nobility, Brother? Where's your dwarven honor!"

Hawke had never seen Varric quite so worked up. She glanced with concern at Anders who was studying Bartrand with a frown, one arm over his chest and the opposite elbow resting in his hand as his fingers tapped on his lips in thought. He hummed and shook his head. "This doesn't feel natural. If he wasn't a dwarf, I'd think a demon did this. His mind has been... poisoned by something powerful." Anders dropped his stance, his mana trickling from his core and caressing over Hawke as he worked a spell she didn't recognize. A loud snap echoed through the hall and Bartrand shook his head. Fenris released him and backed away as Bartrand rubbed his eyes as if they burned. "That's all I can do. It won't last, I'm sorry."

"Varric?" Bartrand rasped as he looked up to take in his surroundings.

"I'm here," Varric assured him, taking his shoulders again, his tone a million times softer.

"Varric, what have I done?" Bartrand asked in terror.

"I don't know," Varric sighed, dropping his arms. "I honestly don't know."

"Make it stop, Little Brother. Don't let me... Don't let House Tethras fall like this," Bartrand pleaded, taking Varric's lapels in his hands. "I know... I don't deserve it, but please, Varric... don't leave me like this. Make it stop."

"Enough with the speeches," Varric soothed, taking Bartrand's hands from him. "I'll get you to a healer, and you'll be fine."

"We can probably carry him," Hawke suggested softly. "You want to take his arms while I take his legs?"

Varric shook his head and glanced behind him at her. "I'll send someone to come get him. Sit tight, Brother. Help is on the way." He patted Bartrand's shoulder and looked to Anders who nodded that the spell should hold long enough. Bartrand made his way back into the study and dropped into a chair, holding his head. "Come on, Hawke. The sooner we get out of this house, the better."

They left the house and Varric started off glaring at the ground until he dragged his eyes up and was pacing her, watching her walk. She knew she needed to say something. "Did you need something, Varric?" she asked with a smirk.

He shrugged and sighed. "A stiff drink, maybe. I feel like I've been kicked by a horse. I almost wish Blondie hadn't wiggled his fingers and cleared Bartrand's head. I liked it better when I just wanted to kill the bastard."

"Look at the bright side!" she nudged him and continued. "You can spend the rest of your days as a caretaker for a murderous lunatic."

"Thanks for reminding me. You're a real ray of sunshine!" he said sarcastically, but she could tell she was getting through. "I'll deal with Bartrand somehow. Maker, that'll be even more of a joy than it used to be. I still can't believe... what he did in that house. It's one thing to walk away and leave us to die, but that?"

"Come on, Varric! Let's go drink until we can't see straight. That'll make you feel better!" she suggested.

"Awe... That's sweet, but watching you get sick won't cheer me up... much..." he paused and sighed. "Anyway, thank you. I'll keep looking into who bought that blighted statue. At the very least, they need to be warned about what happened."

 

Someone was stealing from her. The Bone Pit had recently begun suffering from bandit raids on their cargo shipments and Hubert was in a frenzy. Hawke had investigated and turned up nothing so the man had agreed to continue her investigation.

Hawke headed down to The Hanged Man for Wicked Grace and was taken back to see a rather nervous looking Knight-Captain standing outside the door beneath the dangling dummy and rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. He was out of his plate and dressed in a casual tunic and pants. She approached him from behind and he jerked around to face her when she spoke nearly in his ear. "Cullen! What a surprise! Raiding the Hanged Man for apostates?" she teased as he scowled momentarily at the fact that she had gotten the drop on him.

The scowl faded and his nervous expression returned. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I had the night off and I... uh..." He sighed again.

"Wonder of wonders! You were looking for a place to unwind!" she said enthusiastically.

"I had heard that this place was relaxing, but I don't think any of the patrons would appreciate the Knight-Captain invading their... watering hole," he confessed.

"Tell you what... My friends and I have a weekly game of Wicked Grace. Join us and I will get you in, just like I get Aveline in. Just don't eyeball any of the staves that might be in the room and people will likely not even recognize you. You're like a whole different person without all that heavy plate," she said, taking him by the forearm and tugging. Anders was going to kill her. If he even showed up. It was an increasingly frequent occurrence that he would forget Wicked Grace in lieu of his latest project to bury his face in a book. As much as Hawke loved curling up on the staircase in the library and reading right along beside him, Wicked Grace took priority.

"I don't know, Hawke..." he said, shuffling his feet and pulling from her grasp. "This is probably a bad idea."

Hawke rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm again, her grip firmer as she pulled him along behind her. "If anyone needs a day off, it's you. Come on. I'll buy you a drink."

She gave him no choice as she pushed open the door and dragged him in behind her. She let go of him as soon as they crossed the threshold and stopped to survey the room. A few glares met her and she crossed her arms as the rest of the Hanged Man realized who had just walked in. "Andraste preserve me," Cullen mumbled as all eyes fell on him.

Hawke cocked her hip and set her own glare on the lingering stares. "What's the matter? You lot have never seen a templar before?"

Cullen leaned in to whisper to her over the heavy silence in the tavern. "I should go. This is a terrible idea."

"Don't you dare," she grunted and moved to shove him toward her friends that were sitting by the fire at their usual table. "Izzy, if you would be so kind as to deal us in, I'm going to get some drinks."

The tavern slowly returned to its usual soft murmur for the early hour as Hawke sidled to the bar and picked up the drinks that Coriff set down for her. "It's lucky that every person here likes you, Hawke." he grumbled as she wrapped her hands around the drinks. "If he'd come in here alone, I can't say how they might have reacted."

"Believe me, I know. I'm giving him a chance to see that we can all coexist," she agreed with a sigh.

"An unpopular opinion. Good luck." He moved away to pour a few more drinks to some patrons sitting along the bar and she made her way back to the table, where Isabela handed her some cards as she set his drink down in front of him.

Hawke dropped into her usual chair and propped her feet up where Anders would sit if he ever showed up. She glanced over at Cullen who was studying his cards and trying to ignore the circle of her friends who were staring at him. The first few rounds of cards were awkward to say the least until Varric started to grace the table with some stories. Tensions settled down until Anders showed up. He approached them, leaning down to kiss her cheek and apologize for his tardiness until he realized who was sitting across the table. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

Hawke grabbed him by the arm as he straightened, his magic swirling in his anger. She removed her feet from his chair and yanked him down with a tug of her own magic to get her point across. She dragged her own chair closer and settled her leg over top of his so he couldn't get back up. "Play nice," she growled. "He's trying."

As Anders cut his eyes in Cullen's direction, Hawke swore she saw a flicker of blue in them before he closed them and took a deep breath. "So, what's the pot at?"

Anders settled on vehemently ignoring Cullen's presence as the night continued on. Merrill was, as usual, the first to run out of coin and she politely excused herself with a promise to pay Isabela back her coin the following week. Hawke could see the out of practice templar struggling with his drink, but he was not to be outdone by Varric who had taken to calling him Curly and buying the table several rounds of shots in an attempt to further ease the tension. When Aveline stood to go, Anders pushed Hawke's leg from his and offered to walk back to Hightown with her. Hawke was going to have some groveling to do when she got home. She sighed and called for another round.

After slipping Fenris a few more coins to keep the game going, Hawke saw Cullen folding his hand and putting his hands up before him. "I don't get paid enough to play against this many experienced cheaters." He chuckled amiably.

Isabela pouted, "Oh and I was just starting to have fun."

Hawke took note of the glassy look in Cullen's eyes as he stood and shuffled for the exit. "I should make sure he gets back to the Gallows," she mumbled as she also took note of the pair of mercs that broke away from the bar and followed Cullen outside.

"I will come with you," Fenris offered. "It isn't wise for you to be out at night on your own."

Hawke sighed. "So chivalry isn't dead, I see."

He sneered at her, but then shooed her ahead of him with a small smirk. He had held the grudge of her choosing Anders over him for a short time, but once she had made it a point to not change anything else about their relationship, he had accepted the fact and stuck by her side. They followed Cullen and his tail around toward the docks. The crackle of magic filled the air around the corner and Hawke charged ahead. Cullen was backed into and alley and the man and woman were bearing down on him. Hawke threw up a barrier to protect him from the fireball that was careening toward his face. It sizzled out and then she laid a dispel at the feet of the caster. He turned on her and growled. "How can you defend a templar?"

Fenris charged in behind the man at the woman who had pulled a sword and was rushing for Cullen. Her sword sliced through Fenris' wraith form and then he grabbed her by the throat, crushing her windpipe and snapping her neck. She crumpled and Hawke seized the man in a crushing prison. " _You_ attacked _him_ tonight. What has he ever done to you personally? Nothing will ever change as long as mages like you continue to act like animals."

She closed her fist and the spell choked the life from the man. Her job done, she dropped his corpse and approached Cullen, pulling her barrier from him. She held her hand out and with a slight hesitation, he took it, allowing her to help him stand. "Thank you, Hawke." He hissed as he straightened and she noticed the bloody gash in his side.

"May I?" she asked.

"I really shouldn't return to the Gallows with a magically healed wound," he said with a grateful smirk.

"What Meredith doesn't see won't hurt her. Please. It's the least I can do."

He hesitated only a moment before sighing. "If you insist."

Hawke knelt at his side while Fenris stood with his back to them, watching for trouble. She lifted his tunic away from his skin and cast from her core as Anders had showed her. It made her healing spells that much stronger. She gently ran her hand over the six inch gash and he flinched as his skin began to knit together. "There," she said with a smirk as she admired her work. "Good as new."

"Thank you again," he said as she dropped his tunic back into place and stood. "I really should be getting back."

"Would you like us to make sure you get home?" she asked in concern. She felt slightly guilty for making him come in with her.

"No. Thank you. I am suddenly very much sober. I will see you around," he said with a chuckle.

"Be careful... and Cullen, please don't let these two color your view of the rest of us. We aren't all crazy," she said, biting her lip.

" _You_ are definitely crazy," Fenris said with a smirk over his shoulder at her.

Cullen chuckled as she glared at Fenris. "Shut up, you," she said in mock anger. Then she sighed. "If our work here is done, I suppose you can walk me home now, ser elf."

They bade Cullen farewell and Fenris fell in at her side as they walked toward Hightown. He was silent for a time and Hawke walked beside him, comfortable in the quiet. She was thinking about what she might say to Anders when he confronted her, when suddenly, Fenris spoke up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "We never discussed what happened between us two years ago..."

She shrugged, wondering where this was coming from. "You didn't want to talk about it..."

"I felt like a fool," he admitted sadly. "I thought it better if you hated me... I deserved no less. But it isn't better..." He hung his head before turning his gaze on her. "I know you've moved on and I don't begrudge you that, but that night... I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now."

She balked, stopping to take hold of his elbow, careful to not touch his skin. "There is nothing to forgive, Fenris, but it might be nice to understand why you left."

He sighed and hung his head again. "I've thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up... it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt."

She bit her lip and cringed. "What would you have said?"

"Nothing could be worse than watching you move on with someone else..." he sighed softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't put this on you, but I felt like you needed to know."

"Your feelings are important, Fenris. You should never feel like you can't share them with me. We may not be together, but I hope we're still friends," she encouraged him.

He glanced up at her, his expression soft. Then he surprised her by pulling her into a gentle hug before letting her go again. "You've done more for me than anyone ever has, and I am grateful. Of course we are friends."

He walked her the rest of the way home and she entered the mansion, closing the door quietly behind her. "Did you have fun with your templar?" his voice accused from the balcony as she entered the common room.

She cringed and crossed her arms over her middle as he came down the stairs. "It won't do any good to alienate a potential ally, Anders. We've talked about this before. Cullen has been good enough to not turn any of us in. I think that gives him some wiggle room. It's not like he came to the Hanged Man tonight to spy on us. He wasn't even armed."

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, and she had finished her rant, he managed to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, love."

She huffed and moved away from him as he reached to untangle her arms from her waist. It was a blatant tease and she strolled over to her writing desk to shuffle some of her notes around. She saw a note from Hubert and scanned it quickly as he followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist, cradling her hips in his hands. He leaned his chin on her head, moving her hips with his slowly as he read over her shoulder. "Do you think that is sufficient enough for me to forgive you for abandoning me to the Kirkwall streets?"

He dipped his head to bury his nose in her neck. "You obviously didn't walk home alone, love. You stink of Fenris."

She set the note down and twisted in his arms, lifting a hand to set it on his chest. "I'd much rather stink of you." He looked down at the hand on his chest and noticed the small bit of blood.

"Did something happen?" he asked in concern.

"We followed Cullen to make sure he got back to the Gallows in his state, and he was jumped. They got the drop on him and I had to heal him after Fenris and I killed the two idiots," she explained.

"You weren't hurt?" he asked, a trickle of guilt passing over his face.

"I promise. There were only two of them. No match for me and Fenris..." she smiled and tipped her chin, luring him in for a kiss.

He obliged, raising his hands and cupping her face before roving them back down her and lifting her up onto the desk.

 

"You got my letter!" Hubert said in excitement when she showed up in the market the following morning.

Hawke nodded. "You've been gone a while. I thought you had things under control," she said with an arch of her brow, her arms crossed.

"I told you I would handle this, and I did. Now, after a year of raids on our shipments, I've finally caught one of the culprits!" he said proudly. "One of our miners, Sabin, has been leaking information. Do you know him? He claims to be from your hometown in Ferelden... I would like you to get this festering sore to divulge who is behind the thefts. When you are ready, I will bring Sabin to you," Hubert offered.

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose, afraid to ask how Sabin was being treated under Hubert's care. "Who is this man?" she wondered, unable to put a face to the name.

"I would not expect you to recall every pisspot from your past," Hubert assured her.

"That's the problem with being a big fish in a small pond," she snarked. "I can never tell the little fish apart."

"Well, he brags to his fellows that he grew up with you in Lothering," Hubert said with a shrug.

Hawke sighed. "Bring Sabin back to my place."

"Excellent idea," Hubert said with a grin. "I will get him now."

Hawke made her way back to her house and had a chair set up in the reading room. Hubert came by a half hour later to shove Sabin down in the seat. "Here is the dung pile I caught leaking next week's shipment schedule. He won't tell me who he's working with." Hubert didn't even let Sabin settle in the seat before he was backhanding him. From the looks of things he had been doing so with vigor since he caught him. Sabin's whole face was one big bruise. "Who else has been screwing me over? Tell me, you rutting mongrel!"

Hawke grunted and moved between them. "He can't talk with a mouthful of broken teeth!"

"Please, messere, help me!" Sabin begged from behind her. She turned to glance at him as a trickle of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth. "I knew you since you was young in Lothering. I knew your mum's family... and your pop, Maker grant him rest."

"Pathetic!" Hubert grunted and spat on the beaten man. Then with a sneer that she gladly returned, he said. "I leave this bastard in your capable hands. Get me when he is ready to talk."

Hubert left the room and Hawke sighed, turning to Sabin with a sympathetic slump of her shoulders. "Thank you, messere. Us Lothering folk should stick together."

Hawke moved to stand before the man. "What made you betray your employer?" she wondered, knowing that she did all she could to make the workers in the Bone Pit more comfortable.

"Before the Blight, my family had a good life in Lothering. Clean home, fertile land, friends... In Kirkwall, we lived in a hovel. People spit on us," he reached up and wiped Hubert's spit from his cheek in demonstration. "And some days, we went hungry."

Hawke sighed and thought about her own humble beginnings in the city. "Trust me, things could be worse. Tell me how to stop the next ambush."

Sabin's eyes widened. "Soon as I tell Hubert what he wants to know, he'll kill me or throw me in prison! My life's not worth much, but my family... I only wanted to give my wife and son a better life."

Hawke thought for a moment. "I'll deal with Hubert. Just give us something to go on."

Sabin nodded, seeing where she was going. "Oh! Thank you, messere. I'll talk."

Hawke left Sabin in his chair while she went to find Hubert. He was returning to her mansion with a young blonde rogue. "Hawke. This is Lilley of the Coterie. Given the importance of stopping the cargo robberies, I have enlisted a... consultant."

Hawke grudgingly led them back to Sabin who was sitting forward with his face in his hands. "Consultant," Lilley said with a chuckle. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Well, dog," Hubert said to Sabin, crossing his arms and towering over the man. "Are you ready to bark now?"

"There's an ambush planned tonight at Dietrick Crossing," Sabin spilled.

"Tonight?!" Hubert gasped. "That leaves you barely enough time to intercept them. You had best leave immediately!"

"We'll protect your precious shipment," Lilley said smoothly. "Just make sure you have the Coterie's payment. Want me to deal with this runt? Free of charge. I'll drop him in a ditch on our way out."

Hawke grunted as Hubert waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, take him with my blessing. I assume my partner will not object..."

Hawke narrowed her eyes and found her arms crossing in anger as she balled her fists. "Sabin's been a helpful chap. Plus, he says our villains threatened to kill his wife and son..." Hawke began to have fun with her lie, throwing urgency in her tone. "They even killed his dog to prove a point. His _dog,_ Hubert! You know how important they are to Fereldens."

Lilley chuffed. "There's a thousand such sob stories in Lowtown."

"This does not make it right, what he did. But it takes the sting off. After all I have done for these poor refugees..." Hubert sighed.

Sabin frowned. "All you've done...?"

Hawke interrupted. "Sabin is grateful for all your generosity, and his heart grieves that he must leave..." She turned to Sabin and tipped her head toward the door. "Now!"

"Oh! Thank you, messeres! I know I don't deserve it, but thank you!" he said and got up from the chair to limp from her house.

"We're wasting time!" Lilley grumbled. "If we find naught but corpses at the ambush, it won't be my fault."

About an hour later after they had gathered her people and trekked out to Dietrick's Crossing, Lilley grumbled again as they came up on a group of mercenaries picking through the shipment around a pile of already dead men. "We're too late for your boys, but we'll make these rutters pay." She pulled her daggers and rushed ahead. Hawke rolled her eyes and followed after, taking her staff from her back and twirling it. The ambushers were few in number and no match for the surprise attack from her group and Lilley. As Hawke moved to survey the damage, Lilley said, "That was almost too easy.... Wait. I recognize that lout!" She knelt by one of the men that Hawke had hit so hard with her force magic that his mask had come loose, revealing his identity.

"Who is he?" Hawke asked, moving to her side.

"He's in the Coterie..." Lilley admitted. "One of that damned fool Brekker's men."

"So, your organization is behind this?" Hawke asked angrily.

Lilley shook her head. "We got explicit orders not to. Hubert's been good on his payments. If Brekker ordered this, the rest of his life will be very short and painful."

"Tell me about this man," Hawke wondered as she looked around at the devestation he had caused.

"He operates out of the south side. Always had more balls than sense... His lackeys are loyal. Brekker _must_ be involved," Lilley explained.

Hawke nodded and pursed her lips. "Let's pay Brekker a social call. We've got a lot to talk about."

"I've got to be sure, first," Lilley insisted. "I know who to lean on to get answers. Find me in the Undercity."

Hawke nodded and Lilley left. She gazed around at the shipment and sighed. She was going to need to tell Hubert they needed to clean this all up. She and the others made their way back toward Hightown to speak with Hubert before she led them down to Darktown to find Lilley. She didn't expect the fresh corpse and the ambush from Lilley's friends in the Coterie when they arrived. "Don't let them get away!" another Coterie girl growled as they surrounded Hawke and her group.

Hawke held up her hands in submission and glanced around. "You Coterie? One of Lilley's 'friends'?" she asked carefully.

"Lilley was one of ours. She was working for you, and now she's dead," the girl accused. "You get one chance. Did you kill her?"

Hawke shook her head. "Lilley didn't die by my hand. Someone else did this."

"Explain yourself," the girl said threateningly.

"This is a case of the right hand not knowing what the left is doing," Hawke explained quickly. "One of the scum that attacked my caravans worked for someone in the Coterie named Brekker. Lilley said she'd look into it. I think Brekker had her killed."

"Brekker?" The girl gasped in curiosity. "Hmm. If you're lying, I'll find you." With a quick motion, she dismissed the crowd around them and Hawke sighed in relief. "Men, we have to get to the bottom of this. Now."

A small slip of paper on Lilley's body pointed Hawke to Brekker's supposed hideout. They made their way down into the sewers and followed the directions to Brekker. He was an unimpressive looking rogue who sneered down at her from the top of his disgusting dais when she broke into his base and crossed her arms. "You must be Brekker."

"And you're that lice covered refugee," he taunted.

Hawke chuckled. "I hope you enjoyed saying that. Those are the last words you'll ever speak." She made good on her word, yanking him from his dais with her magic and spearing him on a protruding splinter of wood that was sticking out from where the walls had been propped up with rotting boards. The rest of his men attacked and with help from the others she eliminated any more problems they might have. It was a productive day.

 


	14. The Truth of the Tome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke discovers that Isabela has been keeping secrets and the Qunari are none too pleased.

The next week, she received a rather ominous note from the Viscount and she sighed as she read the swirling script.

_Serah Marian Hawke,_

_Please come speak to me... and only me...in my Keep. It is a matter of utmost privacy and urgency, and I can trust it to no one else._

_Viscount Dumar._

"I'm guessing he doesn't want you to bring anyone along with you," Anders said, reading over her shoulder.

"It's fine. I'll go see what he wants and bring the news home. It's just the Keep," she said turning to give his face a playful squeeze before pulling his chin to her and kissing him thoroughly.

He hummed against her. "I wait with baited breath, love."

In lieu of hunting down an appropriate outfit, she donned her armor. It was more formal than her tunic and less itchy than any of the actual formal wear she owned. She gave Anders one last lingering kiss as she left and he went out the door with her, heading for his clinic. Up the dozens of stairs and into the Keep she went, her greaves clinking against the stone. The Viscount was pacing when she entered his office and she paused to wait for him to acknowledge her. He stopped pacing and leaned heavily on his desk as she watched him, arms crossed. "It is apparently not enough that the Qunari define my political life. They must also infect what I hold personal. It is my son, Saemus." He turned away from her and she saw his shoulders slump. "The life you saved, he would now squander by converting to the Qun. He has left for the Qunari compound. Please, Serah Hawke, convince Saemus to come home." The Viscount turned pleading eyes on her, the stress of his position etched in the lines on his face.

Hawke cringed. "He is of age. The decision seems rightly his..."

The Viscount sighed again, his bright blue eyes not quite so bright anymore. "I want to let him find his way, but in my position... He's taken a great deal of inspiration from you. I want to allow his idealism, but not blindly... At best, my opponents will claim that my office is now in Qunari hands. At worst... I lose my son."

Hawke felt for the man. He was in a bad situation. She dropped her arms to her sides and shrugged. "He's your child. How fast can he be?"

Dumar ignored the jab and shrugged as well. "Who knows, he might actually listen to you. No one else had dealt so closely with the Qunari. I hope he will see that we can be accepting and still be a proud citizen of Kirkwall. I wish we could all see that."

She left him with an agreeing nod. There were a lot of people in Kirkwall who could use that particular perspective. She gathered her people and they headed for the Docks and the Qunari compound. They were waylaid along the way by a group of people who were shouting that they shouldn't be allowed to get to the Qunari. "Who hired that lot?" Anders wondered, brushing dirt from Hawke's sleeve. "Anti Qunari? Anti Viscount? Or Saemus himself not wanting to be rescued?"

Hawke shook her head. "Saemus isn't the type. Let's go."

They made their way to the Compound and Anders smirked as they entered past the ever increasingly irritated gate guard. "Well, hope the Arishok hasn't grown attached to the Viscount's boy."

The tension in the Compound was palpable and as Hawke walked boldly toward the Arishok's upraised throne, he glared down at her. "Serah Hawke."

"I'm here about the Viscount's son," she said warily, not seeing Saemus anywhere around.

"Are you?" the Arishok asked, sitting forward. "In four years, I have made no threat, and fanatics have lined up to hate us simply because we exist. But despite lies and fear, bas still beg me to let them come to the Qun. They hunger for purpose. The son has made a choice. You will not deny him that."

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "Converting the Viscount's son... his opposition will have a field day."

"And?" the Arishok said simply.

"The enemy of your enemy should be your friend?" she wondered.

"I don't fear the whole of them together, and it is not my place to reject the free choice of viddethari. The son responded to his own demand of the Qun. He is neither my slave nor my prisoner. He is not even here. He went to his father. Ask the Viscount why he would send you and a letter both."

"That probably could have been mentioned earlier," Hawke growled, her gut instantly telling her that something was wrong with this scenario.

"They are meeting at the Chantry. A last, pointless appeal, I assume," The Arishok grumbled.

Anders piped up from her side, suspicion in his tone. "The Viscount would involve the Chantry?"

Hawke snorted. "No. But we know who would. Mother Petrice."

The Arishok grunted. "A suspect in many things. If she has threatened someone under my command again, there is only one response."

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. I just can't think of it right now," Hawke said sheepishly.

The Arishok scoffed. "Her intent is obvious, and what the Qun demands is clear. This is the last insult I intend to suffer. Resolve this, or her hiding place will be reduced to rubble. I will be watching, Hawke."

She pressed her lips together and retreated from the Compound quickly. She needed to hurry. The Arishok was not one to let this go and Petrice was on thin ice. They rushed to the Chantry as dusk began to descend on the city. Everything was quiet and Hawke started to get nervous. Inside the Chantry was desolate. There was not a single cleric or lay sister in sight. She spotted Saemus atop the main pulpit, kneeling in prayer, his eyes closed and his hands limp in his lap. Her stomach flipped as she approached him and he didn't react to the sound of her armor. Her hand fell on his shoulder and it might as well have been made of ice. He was freezing. That was when she took note of the rough bruises around his neck. Strangled to death and then put on display as a trap. When her hand came away from him, his body fell over and Hawke backed up. "Serah Hawke, look at what you have done." Hawke looked down with narrowed eyes at Petrice as she continued to taunt. "To pounce upon the Viscount's son, a repentant convert, in the Chantry itself? A crime with no excuse." She had an entourage of templars and more of the faithful like those who had followed Varnell. "Your Qunari masters will finally answer."

"All this will do is make people hate you," Hawke disagreed. Saemus had been a good person and didn't deserve to be made her plaything.

"I have kept the fear of the Qunari fresh in every sermon, every prayer. They will know whose word to believe," she insisted. "When people learn of this attack, they will rise. Not zealots or the unknowing, but the true majority."

"Great plan," Hawke shrugged, her tone sarcastic. "Until people start dying in a war with the Qunari."

"To die untested would be the true crime," Petrice preached. "People need the opportunity to defend faith. Starting with you." She turned to her followers and held her arms wide. "Earn your reward in this life and the next! These heretics must die!"

The Chantry exploded in a flurry of activity in which Petrice yet again disappeared. Hawke despised having to kill the innocent Kirkwallers who came at her in little more than paupers clothing with kitchen knives to defend their faith, as misplaced as it was. Sebastian appeared from deeper in the Chantry looking confused, but soon realized what was happening. He began to defend Hawke and her friends as the crazed mob grew, pouring in off the streets. If someone as devout as Sebastian could see the truth, why couldn't the others?

When the last templar fell and Hawke knocked out a woman who came rushing for her, Petrice reappeared with Grand Cleric Elthina. "Do you see, Your Grace? Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry? They defile with every step."

Elthina glanced around sadly at the carnage. "There is death in every corner, young Mother. It is as you predicted, all too well."

Hawke heard the disbelief in Elthina's tone as her eyes fell on both Hawke and Sebastian. Hawke stepped forward. "She's on to you, Petrice. Quick, lie harder!"

"Don't you spout your Qunari filth! This is a hand of the Divine!" Petrice practically spat.

"I have ears, Mother Petrice," Elthina scolded. "The Maker would have me use them."

Hawke pursed her lips in victory as she addressed Elthina. "Viscount Dumar's son is dead, killed here in your name."

"I'm sure my name won't like that," Elthina said. "Petrice?"

"Saemus Dumar was a Qunari convert! He came here to repent and was murdered!" Petrice insisted, her voice wavering.

"Love or hate the Qunari, a blind nug could see she took this too far," Hawke pointed out.

"No price is too much when we speak of eternity!" Petrice argued.

"Eternity is long enough that we need not rush to meet it!" Elthina argued.

"They deny the Maker," Petrice scowled.

"And you diminish Him, even as you claim His side," Elthina scolded. "Andraste did not volunteer for the flame." She turned back to Hawke. "Serah Hawke, you act on behalf of the Viscount?" Hawke nodded. "The young Mother has erred in her judgement. A court will decide her fate." Elthina's eyes flicked toward the entry hall and she sighed. "The Chantry respects the law and so must she."

"Grand Cleric?" Petrice gasped as Elthina abandoned her, heading back up the stairs toward the bowels of the Chantry. "Grand Cleric!" She called desperately after her.

Petrice turned back toward Hawke and lowered her eyes, her head hanging in defeat. Hawke heard a whipping sound and before she could turn to see the source, a thick arrow was protruding from the chest of a very surprised Petrice. Her hand went to her chest and she looked up as she fell to her knees. Hawke glanced behind her to see the Qunari as he knocked a second arrow. It hit with a meaty thunk, burying itself deep in Petrice's forehead. Her head whipped back and she fell dead. "We protect those of the Qun. We do not abandon our own," the Qunari said simply before leaving the Chantry.

"Please," Elthina's exhausted voice said softly from her place on the stairs. "Send for Viscount Dumar."

Sebastian went to fetch the Viscount and Hawke looked around at the mess surrounding them. It was only minutes before the Viscount burst into the Chantry with Sebastian, his expression shocked. He rushed up the pulpit to gather his son in his arms. "My son," he said haltingly as he rocked Saemus' body, holding him against his chest. Hawke approached slowly and sighed, not knowing what to say. "Murdered in the heart of the Chantry, by those who held a sacred trust. What hope for this city, when we fail our own so completely?"

"At least it can't get worse," she blurted. "Today, anyway. It's pretty late."

"You'll pardon me if I don't see the humor in the death of my son," he spat, not even looking at her. His body began to shudder and Hawke could tell he was sobbing in silence. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. "Please, Hawke, leave me."

She did as he asked, leaving him with his grief. As they stepped into the chilled air of the courtyard outside the Chantry, Anders put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "An end of sorts, but the Qunari in the Chantry and the Viscount's dead son won't simply fade from memory."

Varric grunted. "Nobody came out of that looking good. What now?"

Hawke shrugged and started down the stairs toward her house. "The Arishok's the one to worry about. So we clean up and wait for trouble to find us."

 

Hawke did not have to wait long. A few minutes at best. The few minutes it took for her to cross Hightown and enter her home. She and Anders paused at the door as heated voices argued in the common area. "This is important! Don't interrupt with your selfish prattle!"

"Get off your high horse! I have problems, too..."

A short disbelieving scoff, " 'What drink should I order,' and 'Who's the father'?"

Hawke rushed into the room as Isabela raised her hand and grunted, "Oh, you little..."

"Are there any good seats left?" She interrupted before Isabela's palm could connect with Aveline's face.

Aveline pushed past the flustered Isabela and demanded Hawke's attention. "Hawke... the Arishok is sheltering two fugitives who have 'converted' to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them." Her signature pacing started and Hawke followed her with her eyes. "He's already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law... I need your help so this doesn't get out of hand."

Isabela shouldered into view. "I'm going to die! There. Got your attention. _Real_ problem!"

Hawke held up her palms before her. "I heard 'Arishok' and 'die'... What's this about?"

"Remember the relic?" Isabela said over top of Aveline's opening mouth. "The one Castillon's going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it. If you help me get it, Castillon won't kill me. Please..."

"I'm trying to keep the entire city from rioting against the Qunari!" Aveline gasped in disbelief.

Isabela turned away and shuffled her feet, a nervous reaction that Hawke was unused to from the confident pirate. "Well... maybe it's connected."

"What!?" Aveline shouted as Hawke's shoulders slumped.

"I'm just saying," Isabela turned back to Aveline and mumbled. "maybe it will help. It's important to someone, right?"

" _Now_ you start being responsible? Shit..." Aveline grunted, turning to Hawke who was unsure of what to say.

She cast a glance at Isabela's pleading eyes. "You're sure this is the relic you're after?" They had been on wild goose chases before hunting this thing.

Isabela brightened as Hawke paid attention to her request. "I've had my ear to the ground for a while. There was a description of the book. It's the right one."

Hawke's eyes narrowed and she took a small step forward, her feet moving of their own volition. "Book? I thought you didn't know what the relic was?"

Isabela balked, her obvious inner curse showing on her expression. Isabela seemed to forget that they had spent the better part of two years as lovers. Hawke could read her like a book. "Well, I... I know it's a book. But that's all I know. It's written in a foreign tongue." She shrugged impishly. "Honestly, what does it matter? It'll save me from Castillon, so I need it."

Hawke felt her shoulders fall again as she looked at Aveline who was staring daggers at Isabela. The pirate was frantic, and her usual confidence practically gone. Hawke sighed and rubbed her temples. "The relic issue has to be resolved before we take on the Qunari." If Isabela thought it could help, she believed her.

"You trust her this much?" Aveline asked in surprise.

"Probably not," Isabela said with a relieved shrug. "I wouldn't."

Aveline sighed out a ragged breath. "They won't wait at the compound forever, Hawke. I really do hope this helps, because if it doesn't..."

Isabela grunted. "You think I like having this thing on my mind?" She pushed past the assembled crowd and said, "Come on. The exchange is happening tonight in a Lowtown Foundry."

Hawke's shoulders slumped as she sighed and turned on her heel to follow Isabela. "If we hurry, we can catch Varric before he settles in," she mused as Anders took her hand and squeezed.

 

As it was, they caught up with Varric on the stairs down to Lowtown with Aveline going to gather a few of her guards and head to the Docks and survey the mood of the Arishok. With any luck, Isabela's issue would be resolved quickly and Hawke could hurry to help Aveline. It seemed that the Arishok would entertain no one else in the city-state.

Lowtown was emptying out for the evening as they approached the foundry district and there was a rather sour looking group of Qunari standing in the square. The largest at the forefront brandished one of their long spears and Hawke flinched as he shouted at Isabela. "Halt! You will give us the Tome of Koslun!"

"I don't have your stupid relic!" she growled in return.

"The bas has no honor. Kill it!" The Qunari grunted, lifting his spear to throw it. Isabela ducked out of the way as it whipped past her and buried itself in the stone of the ground.

Hawke's eyes went wide as she remembered the bite of those spears. She immediately reacted, throwing a fireball into the crowd of Qunari and backpedaling to a safer distance while Isabela threw herself into the middle of the group, slashing with her daggers. A momentary clenching of her gut had Hawke erecting a barrier around her friend as she flitted in and out of stabbing distance within the jumble. Bolts and shards of ice were flying around the square, systematically reducing the Qunari to a pile of bodies. When Isabela stepped over one of them and made her way impishly back toward Hawke, Hawke crossed her arms. "If the Arishok asks why we killed his men, we'll say it was an accident," she spat. What was Isabela not telling her?

"Er... Yes. About that. The relic belongs to the Qunari and there's a small chance they want it back," she finally admitted, deflating.

Hawke inhaled a gasp. "Do the Qunari look like the sharing type to you? Of course they want it back!" she practically shrieked. That was why the Qunari were still in Kirkwall. Because Isabela had stolen their book.

Isabela hugged herself, looking guilty. "I've always known what the relic is. I just didn't want to... worry you." She bit her lip.

Hawke sighed and felt her own defensive posture softening. "You're the picture of kindness, Rivaini," Varric grumbled with a frown.

"The relic is a Qunari text handwritten by that philosopher of theirs... Keslan, Cousland... Whatever his name is," she flapped her hand dismissively. "I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it, and it's why they're still in Kirkwall. They can't leave the Free Marches without it."

Hawke shrugged. "Maybe giving it back would solve Aveline's problem..."

Isabela sneered. "That mess is over a couple of elves. I need it to save my own skin."

Hawke frowned at her selfish attitude, but was not all together surprised. "I thought you and the Qunari were caught in a storm?"

Isabela looked guilty again. Was it because she had lied? "The storm was only half of it. I also had the Qunari dreadnought stuck to my behind like a bad rash, spitting fire and thunder at me."

"Sounds like the Qunari take their reading very seriously," Hawke said with a small smirk at the mental picture Isabela had just drawn for her.

"Is there anything the Qunari don't take seriously?" she quipped in return, sensing Hawke's willingness to forgive. "Look, the book's right in this building, and I'm not letting it slip away again." She pointed at the foundry to her left. "It's the only thing that'll get Castillon off my back. Please tell me you'll give the relic to me."

Hawke's eyes narrowed again. How could Isabela put her own ass before the entire city? Especially when she knew that Hawke had promised to protect her agasint Castillon countless times. "The artifact belongs to the Qunari, and you'll let them leave with it," Hawke scolded.

"Don't you understand?" Isabela shouted. "The relic is the only thing that will keep Castillon from feeding me to the sharks! I can't believe you're..." She threw up her arms and a sound of disgust and frustration left her throat as she paced a step away and then turned back to face Hawke again. With a sigh she grudgingly said, "Fine, you're right. I'll return the relic. It'll go straight to the Qunari once we get it." Hawke couldn't help but feel like Isabela metaphorically had her fingers crossed behind her back as she made that promise, but she had no time to debate. "Come on, we've no time to waste."

As they entered the foundry, there was already a scene unfolding. A group of mages in Tevinter robes were clustered menacingly around a nervous, greasy looking, man who Hawke immediately figured must be Wall-Eyed Sam. Her attention was drawn from the group in front of them by a shout from the second floor. "The Tome of Koslun will not fall into Tevinter hands!"

Several Qunari poured in above from deeper in the foundry. "Blood and Spite!" One of the Tevinters cursed, drawing a staff from her back.

In the distraction, the nervous Sam took the opportunity to turn and dash past Hawke and the others to leave. "He's getting away!" Isabela shouted, pulling her daggers and giving chase to the man.

"Isabela!" Hawke called after her, but the battle was already beginning and Hawke had to dance out of the way of a splash of magic from the Tevinters. "Shit," she cursed as she, Anders and Varric were drawn into the fray. Hawke laid out a dispel that encompassed the group of Tevinters, leaving a few of them frowning as they tried to use their magic and then realized that there was another magic user on the field. Anders' barrier hummed around her skin and she called a tempest down on the vulnerable Tevinters. Many of them fell in the confusion and the couple of Qunari who decided to rush Hawke were knocked backwards by a glyph of repulsion that Anders laid helpfully at her feet. Varric sniped a few of the Qunari still on the second level, eliminating the threat of the spears that were raining down. Hawke slammed the Qunari that had been knocked away with a Fist of the Maker, knocking the air from their lungs and Anders set a glyph in the air before him, pushing energy through it that manifested in a barrage of ice shards that hunted down the remaining Qunari.

Hawke spun on her heel as the last ones fell, rushing after Isabela and Sam. Just outside the door, Sam's body had been added to the pile of Qunari and a slip of paper flapped gently from his breast, stuck on with blood. Hawke's heart wrenched as she realized Isabela had betrayed her. She moved to kneel by the corpse and retrieve the letter.

_Dear Hawke,_

_I have the relic, and I am gone. I've lost too much over this blighted thing to let it go again. I know it would be noble to return the relic to the Qunari, but that would require a better soul than I possess._

_For what it's worth. I'm sorry I lied to you again._

_Isabela_

Hawke crumpled the letter in her fist and stood, Anders' hand finding her shoulder. "She's gone then... Can't say I blame her."

Hawke set the paper on fire in her fist and dropped the ashes. This betrayal hurt. "Come on. Aveline will be waiting at the Qunari compound. We still have to deal with that mess."

 

At the docks, Hawke still felt like rubbish. Aveline was stuck outside the Compound, the gates barring entry. Hawke shuffled up to her and Aveline sighed. "I'd wrap up any other business before we go. It's already a mess, and could get worse."

"Let's go," she grumbled.

Aveline narrowed her eyes, taking note of Isabela's absence, and Hawke shook her head, lowering her gaze. With another sigh, Aveline approached the Qunari gate guard and Hawke followed. "I request an audience with the Arishok," she said formally.

The guard glanced around and crossed his arms. "He will allow it, but not in this number."

"I will only bring my friend here, and a small complement of my guard," Aveline said in appeasement. "Is that few enough?"

Hawke did not relish going in there without Varric and Anders, but it seemed like she had little choice as the guard nodded. "It is. Enter."

She turned to Anders and pulled him into a short kiss. "You and Varric go wait for me at the Hanged Man. I'll be done before you know it."

"Be careful, love," he said softly, eyeballing the Qunari.

"I always am," she agreed with a stiff smile.

As he and Varric turned away, Aveline picked five of her guards to go in with them, sending the rest to keep an eye on the city. The tension on the Docks was palpable as the gates screeched open to admit them. They met the Arishok, off his throne and weapons in hand, as he sneered angrily at the interruption. His right hand held a large unweildy two sided axe, hitched up on his shoulder, and the other an equally menacing looking longsword which he dangled carefully at his side.

The sword found a holster as they approached. "Shanedan."

"Greetings Arishok," Aveline said formally as the Arishok glared at Hawke. "We come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here."

"Irrelevant. I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp," he growled.

"If you give me time, I'll get it back for you," she swore. She was not certain how, but she would do whatever she could to keep him from ravaging the city. He was looking primed for battle.

"It is much too late for that," he growled, making her stomach flip. This was not working out as planned.

"An issue for another time," Aveline interrupted. "We're here for the fugitives."

The Arishok tipped his head. "The elves are now viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They will be protected."

Hawke crossed her arms, a challenging stance. "Have they truly converted, or are they simply using you as a shield?"

"They have chosen, and so have I." He regarded Hawke as he always did. With curiosity. "You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must to do this. Let us look at your 'dangerous' criminals." Two elves were brought from the sidelines. They looked ordinary. Dressed in simple clothes and with a layer of grime on them from a life of hard work. "Speak, viddathari. Who did you murder and why?"

One of the elves stepped forward. "A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him... or tried to. But they did nothing about it, no matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit."

"That doesn't excuse murder!" Aveline pointed out.

"Are these elves telling the truth?" Hawke asked Aveline softly. She agreed murder wasn't the solution, but if there were rapists in the guard, something needed to be done.

"There have been rumors, I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands," Aveline insisted.

"Sometimes that is necessary," The Arishok said simply.

"Like you avenged the viscount's son?" Aveline retorted. "It was not right then and it's not right now."

Hawke rolled her eyes. This was not the time for debates. "We're just here for the elves." This needed to be deescalated before it got worse.

The Arishok swung his axe from his shoulder so it hung by his leg. "Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease. They have chosen. The viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them." He stepped closer to Aveline.

"You can't just decide that! You must hand them over," Aveline growled.

The Arishok glared down at Aveline before pacing away from her and then returning his attention on Hawke. "Tell me, Hawke, what would you do, in my place?"

Hawke shrugged, realizing that no matter what she said, he would twist it to his own liking. "They would make poor Qunari without the horns."

"I see," he said with what amounted to a sigh for him. "I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution."

Hawke's heart sped as the Aveline gasped. "Arishok, there is no need for..."

He held up a finger to stop her and then turned from them. "Vinek kathas," he said and Hawke immediately saw the movement from all around. They were surrounded and the Arishok had just ordered their deaths.

Aveline drew her sword as spears took down three of her guards in the blink of an eye. Aveline swiped downward, parrying a spear that was thrown at her and Hawke saw a Qunari charging at her from her left. She lifted her arm to block the upraised sword and swung with her right fist, shoving force magic into her punch and knocking the Qunari flat. Aveline and the other two guards were backing from the Compound and Hawke reached for her staff. Aveline held up her arm to push Hawke backwards with them and shouted, "Not here! Too open! Go! Go!" after cutting down another of the beasts who charged at her. Hawke sidestepped more spears as they fell from the balconies. Her heart was pumping with rage and terror as she moved with the semi circle. The other two guards fell and she paused, her fists clenching as the Arishok met her gaze. They shared a short glare full of challenge before Aveline shouted again. "Hawke!"

Hawke reluctantly turned, out of throwing range, and ran after the retreating guard Captain. The ran from the docks, noticing that the Compound was not the only part of the city in chaos. Aveline stopped Hawke in the alley before the stairs that led up to Lowtown. "Can you hear it? The Qunari must be spreading out. They're attacking the city!" Hawke's fists remained clenched as she watched dozens of people heading for Darktown to escape. In her opinion, the Arishok had been planning this for months for it to be this organized. Aveline looked to her, stricken. "Why? What could they possibly hope to accomplish?"

"Somehow, I don't think the Arishok cares what happens after this," Hawke mused as the shouting in the city got increasingly louder, even in the little square of quiet the alley was providing them.

"You may be right. Whatever it is, we need to do something quickly. But we'll need some help..." Aveline sighed.

Hawke nodded and turned back toward Lowtown, just as she hurried from the alley and rounded the corner, she collided with someone else. Before she could even say anything, she recognized the sweep of his mana as he gathered her in his arms. "You're safe. Thank the Maker. I thought they got you." Anders pulled away gently to give her a once over, his honey eyes concerned. "Darktown is flooded with people trying to get away from all this." Varric sidled up beside him, Bianca cradled in his arms.

"The Qunari are assaulting the city... and fast. The Arishok planned this for who knows how long," Aveline said, coming to the same conclusion as Hawke as she explained to Anders and Varric. She moved around Hawke to look up the stairs toward Lowtown. "We should head to the keep to rally my guardsmen. Whatever happens, be careful."

Hawke took Anders' hand in her left and her staff in her right, squeezing his hand before letting it slip from her grasp. His barrier slipped up over her and she twirled her staff in preparation. Wading through the Qunari was like fording through waist high snow. Each time they cleared a side street, more flowed in ahead of them to block their progress. Fifteen minutes later, there were fires blocking off a good portion of the city and the elves had blocked off the alienage. Hawke picked a path through Lowtown, heading for the market and the stairs up to Hightown. Anders grabbed her arm as they approached her uncle Gamlen's house. "Wardens," he warned her.

When she, Anders, Aveline and Varric spilled into the street, there were three Grey Wardens engaged with a party of Qunari. She leant a hand to the Wardens, showering the Qunari with a firestorm. When the Qunari were dead, the Warden in charge approached her with a grim smile. His black hair was cut short to his head, the crown barely longer than the rest and he sported a rather impressive mustache that hung down to his chin, but he had no other facial hair. He gave Anders a short frown before returning his attention to Hawke who had placed herself ahead of the others by saving their hides. "You have our sincere thanks," he said in a slight Orlesian accent as he hitched his shield to his back and sheathed his sword. "This attack was... most unexpected. We have not met. I am Stroud of the Grey Wardens. I cannot believe the Qunari would dare such an attack. This will lead to war with the Free Marches for certain." He and his companions began to head in the direction that Hawke had come from. "I fear pressing matters take us elsewhere, but we can spread word to the other Free Cities. Perhaps they will bring aid."

Hawke frowned and crossed her arms, calling after him. "There's something more important than an invasion?"

"There is," he admitted, stopping. "But I cannot say more. The Qunari are of far greater concern to you, I am certain, but we must return to our mission."

"We could use your help defending the city," Hawke asked one last time as Anders slowly shook his head from her side.

"Even if we wished to, Grey Wardens cannot involve themselves in political struggles. I am sorry," he refused as Anders crossed his arms as well, his eyes narrowing. "Maker watch over you, my friend." With the final farewell, Stroud disappeared and Hawke grunted.

"Come on," she urged, having wasted enough time.

They forded through the rest of Lowtown and up to the Hightown Market. It was surprisingly deserted. The only thing she spotted were two Qunari dragging a noble woman in a dress by her ankle as she struggled, gasping and trying to loosen her foot to escape. "Parsharra! Quit your struggling, woman!" the Qunari dragging her grumbled.

Hawke drew her staff again and tapped into her dwindling mana. Stepping in their path, she twirled her staff and shook her head. "Teth a! Bas!" the second Qunari shouted in warning when he saw her staff.

They both stopped and the one dragging the woman dropped her foot. She scrambled to her feet and scurried away down toward Lowtown. "Then the Arishok failed to take you captive... Unfortunate," the dragger said, recognizing her.

Hawke didn't bother answering him. She drew her arm back and then shot it forward, a spirit bolt leaving her fingers to slam into his chest. He stumbled back and his companion charged toward her. Aveline stepped in between them, bouncing the Qunari off her shield and pushing him back. The fight drew the attention of more Qunari in the area and Hawke suddenly felt the pull of mana that did not come from Anders. She concentrated on taking down the immediate threat as she frantically scanned the battlefield for the Sarrebas. The Qunari mages were extremely powerful, even collared as they were. As she hit the last Qunari with a fireball, there was a deafening pop and a spell exploded behind her. The force of the spell sent her flying forward, her companions with her. She landed hard on her chest, the impact knocking the wind from her and doubling her vision. She fought to lift her head to see the Sarrebas approaching her with great speed and holding his arms up. Magic began to glow white in his palms and Hawke watched him waver from one body to two and back to one as her eyes tried to regain sense of her surroundings. His head jerked to the side and a split second later, as Hawke felt his spell building up the energy to kill them all, a sword jutted through his chest. The magic died and Hawke blinked as the Sarrebas fell to his knees and then was relieved of the burden of his head.

A tall, blonde, middle aged woman clad in templar plate and a red hood held on with a golden starburst accent on her forehead stood, in a warrior's pose, her sword dripping blood. If Hawke hadn't been able to guess who she was, she might have been impressed instead of terrified. The woman flipped her sword in a circle, whipping the blood from it before sheathing it at her hip and holding her hand down toward Hawke after stepping over the dead Sarrebas. "I am Knight-Commander Meredith," she announced as Hawke tentatively took her hand and she lifted her to her feet. Hawke stumbled slightly as Meredith set shimmering blue eyes on her and took in her clothing and staff. "I know you." _Shit_. Hawke cursed inwardly, her heart rate increasing. On the outside, she maintained an air of belonging as she always had in the Keep before she had moved to Hightown. She squared her shoulders, daring Meredith to turn away her help. "The name 'Hawke' has turned up in my reports many times. Too many."

Hawke's friends were all recovering from the spell and they gathered at her back. Hawke could almost feel Anders trembling with rage as he stood at her side, but apparently even Justice knew better than to show himself in front of the Knight-Commander. "It's good that we found you, Knight-Commander," Aveline said, easing the tension and drawing some of the attention off Hawke. "The Qunari are..."

Meredith cut her off, glancing around at the dead Qunari all around the square and then pacing toward the rest of Hightown. "It's obvious what they are doing. The Qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them."

"Why would they be gathering hostages?" Hawke wondered, boldly stepping up to Meredith's side and watching a Qunari herding a man from the Merchant's guild toward the Keep just as Meredith had said.

Meredith looked at her sidelong before pursing her lips. Aveline answered for her. "To get everyone important in one place, where they can be controlled... or killed."

"Charming," Meredith said with a sneer.

"I'm always happy to help in a life threatening crisis!" Hawke offered cheerily.

"Good. I'll overlook you own use of magic, for the moment." Meredith said, turning toward Hawke. "Head to the Keep and I will see if I can find more of my men. These creatures will pay for this outrage."

As Meredith left them, Hawke could not help but hear her words echoing in her head. _For the moment_. Was she going to need to flee the city to escape the circle once this was done? She didn't want to run. Her life was here. She sighed and swallowed the lump in her throat. More Qunari stood between her and the Keep. She needed to focus. "How's your mana, love?" Anders asked as they made their way up from the square toward the Merchant's guild.

"It will have to do, won't it?" she said with a sigh. She didn't want to use a lyrium potion until the need was dire.

They met with two more large groups of Qunari between them and the Keep Courtyard. Hawke was nearly drained by the time she helped an elven mage off the ground. He was a tall, thin man with short gray hair slicked back from his face. He was wearing circle robes, but they seemed finer than the robes of the bodies all around. "Many thanks, my friend," he grunted as his hands glowed a soft blue and he healed his own injuries.

"Looks like you fared better than the other mages," Hawke said softly.

"The others!" he glanced around, his voice stricken. "Surely they cannot all be..." As his green eyes flicked around the Courtyard and landed on all of the dead mages, they suddenly widened and he jogged toward one of the males, dropping to his knees to check for life. "Gone," he said with a sad sigh. "I told them to run..."

"First Enchanter Orsino, you survive," Meredith said, coming into the Courtyard with an uncomfortable amount of templars at her heel.

Hawke suddenly realized why the mage's robes were different from the others. She had never met the First Enchanter, but from the complete lack of surprise on Anders' face, they were acquainted. "Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander," Orsino said sarcastically as he stood from the ground.

Meredith scoffed. "There is no time for talk. We must strike back before it's too late."

Orsino crossed his arms. "And who will lead us into this battle? You?" His tone was angry. There was obviously bad blood between the two of them. It seemed the rumors were at least true to that end.

"I will fight to defend this city as I have always done!" Meredith nodded, her fists clenching.

"To control it, you mean! I won't have our lives tossed to the flames to feed your vanity!" Orsino corrected snidely.

This was getting them nowhere and Hawke found her usual take charge attitude asserting itself and the remark fell from her lips before she could stop it. "I won't have you two at each other's throats! _I'm_ in charge."

"You?" Meredith balked, as if no one had ever had the balls to suggest she listen to orders. "You're not even of this city!"

"Neither am I," Orsino reminded her. "Yet I don't hear you complaining about us both fighting to defend our home."

"Very well then," Meredith said grudgingly. "But whatever you plan, be quick about it."

"Tell us then," Orsino asked. "What is our course of action?"

Hawke took a step back and shrugged jokingly. She wasn't even sure why they had agreed to allow her to lead them. "I take it running for the hills isn't an option?" When Meredith narrowed her eyes and shook her head sharply, obviously not amused with Hawke's joke. Hawke dropped her grin and said, "Or we could find out what they're up to. That works, too."

Meredith's expression softened. "An excellent choice. Let's move quickly."

They all headed up to the top of the first set of stairs to the Keep where the entryway narrowed into two archways before opening back up to the final set of stairs. Hawke was feeling the pressure of a headache from over using her reserves for the last hour and she opened and closed her fists, as Aveline peered around the wall to get a look at the doors of the Keep. Hawke looked out as well, over Aveline's head and Orsino hovered nearby, his own eyes studying the group of Qunari assembled outside the doors. Hawke felt Anders' hand fall gently on her shoulder and he slipped her some of his mana. When she glanced back with a frown, he tucked a lyrium potion into her belt pocket with a wink. She knew he could feel how drained she was.

"There seem to be a great many Qunari at the Keep's entrance," Orsino said in a hushed tone, moving back behind the wall before he was spotted.

"Then they've already taken it over," Meredith grumbled. "Clearly they've been planning this for some time."

"I don't see any of my guardsmen," Aveline said worriedly.

"This is the only way in," Meredith pointed out. "We must assault them now before their numbers grow."

Orsino's eyes bugged out. "Are you mad? They have hostages! We need a distraction."

Meredith and Orsino turned to Hawke and Meredith narrowed her eyes. "Decide quickly. We have no time."

Hawke did not want to put the people in the Keep in danger so she swiftly said, "Let's hear what you have in mind, Orsino."

He offered her a soft smile before saying, "We'll need to get you inside and catch up as soon as we can."

"And just how will we do this?" Meredith asked skeptically as Orsino drew his staff and twirled it expertly as he passed by them toward the archways.

"Have confidence, Knight-Commander," he smirked. Hawke slipped through the archways and back into the shadows of the pillars along the Viscount's Way, as it was called. Her companions followed.

Orsino made a spectacle of himself, drawing the Qunari's attention in a spectacular light show before throwing a few large fireballs in their direction and roasting more than one of the threats before retreating back to Meredith with the Qunari in tow. Hawke looked on as the last of the Qunari disappeared down the stairs. As soon as they were gone, she and her companions hurried up to the Keep.

Inside was a wasteland. All of the usual bustle of the Keep was silent and there were bodies everywhere. Hawke stepped up to the corpse of a guard and pulled the Qunari spear from his gut so she could spitefully chuck it to the ground and draw any listening Qunari to them before they headed into the belly of the Keep where they must be keeping the hostages. The spear clattered noisily to the ground and in spite of knowing that would happen, Hawke cringed as the string of Qunari emerged from the parlor in front of the Viscount's throne room. Three spears from above slammed into Anders' barrier around her, knocking her backwards as she tried to cast. The barrier fell and she panicked momentarily as another of the Qunari lifted his spear over his shoulder and aimed at her. She rolled out of the way after he released it, getting back to her feet and releasing the chain lightning she had primed into the group, starting with him. The barrier slithered back over her skin and she sighed in relief. When the final Qunari fell, Hawke realized that this was it. The Arishok was likely in the Viscount's throne room. If she couldn't talk him down, it might well mean her city fell. She stood at the edge of the doorway, her palm hovering over the knob, shaking with nerves. She jumped slightly as Anders' hand fell on her shoulder again. "You should take that potion I gave you, love."

She cleared her throat and tried to pretend like she hadn't just nearly pissed herself. She had come to realize in the last few years that not much scared her, but the Arishok definitely frightened her to her core. She fished the vial from her pocket and tipped the lyrium potion into her mouth. The metallic and strangely earthy taste cascaded over her tongue and down her throat to her core where her mana surged back into place. As much as she had expended, it was not enough. She was exhausted and drained, physically and emotionally, and she needed this to be over. She had lost one of her best friends not hours ago. Now, she was leading the force that was trying to save an entire city from a horde of Qunari with the biggest warrior she had ever met at their head. She swallowed her fear and uncertainty and shoved it beneath her mask. A confident grin replaced her dread and she squared her shoulders then grasped the doorknob.

Hawke flung the door open and took in the scene before her. The Viscount's head was rolling along the floor ahead of her and his crown slipped from it to roll in another direction and clink against her foot. Another Qunari was snapping the neck of a noble who had dared to shout his outrage at the Arishok. The body fell at the Qunari's feet and the Arishok looked across the throne room from the dais where the throne stood, his gaze falling on her. "But we have guests!" He growled, his speech ending as she boldly stepped over the fallen crown and straight for the dais. He took his axe from his back and came down the stairs to meet her. "Shanedan Hawke! I expected you." He paused and took her in. "But for all your might, you are no different from these bas. You do not see." The axe rested on his shoulder and he glared down at her as she invaded his space with confidence.

" _I_ see a man who's ready to start a war on principle," she sneered as the room fell deathly silent.

"And what would the Qunari be without principle? You, I suspect," he retorted, his voice even. "Prove yourself, basra, or kneel with your brethren." He turned from her and his personal honor guard surrounded Hawke and her companions, weapons drawn.

Hadn't she killed enough Qunari to get here? She cast a mind blast, stunning the circle of attackers and allowing her people to get out of the confining space. Aveline cut down one of the guards and slipped out of the circle first, clanging her sword against her shield to draw attention from her less heavily armed allies. Anders speared the Qunari closest to him with a quickly cast ice wall and Varric launched a volley of bolts from Bianca before flipping out of the fray and falling back to sniping range. Hawke was left with two of her own Qunari. She cast a fireball and threw it at their feet. As they danced out of the way, she drew them back in to the flames with a Pull of the Abyss. Then she ground them into the stone floor with a Fist of the Maker.

The Arishok watched studiously as his men were cut down. Finally, he shouted. "Parsharra! You are basalit-an after all. Few in this city command such respect." As she and her friends regrouped around him, he asked, "So tell me, Hawke, You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?"

Hawke opened her mouth to tell him to chase after Isabela himself if he wanted it that badly, but a ruckus at the doors had her turning to see what was going on. Two Qunari fell and from behind their hulking forms, Isabela appeared. She was covered in blood and her dagger dripped menacingly as she stepped on top of one of the bodies to get to them instead of going around. As she flounced toward them, Hawke breathed a sigh of relief and she felt the knot in her stomach loosen as Isabela shot her a wink, the Tome tucked under her left arm, and said saucily, "I believe I can answer that." She handed the book to the Arishok who accepted it reverently. "I'm sure you'll find it... mostly undamaged."

"The Tome of Koslun," he gasped in awe, his fingers running over the gem that was embedded in the thick leather cover.

Isabela took a moment to whisper to Hawke. "It took me a while to get back, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is."

Hawke felt the relieved smile spread across her face and suppressed the urge to hug Isabela. "Heroic acts of sacrifice? What will people say?" she teased, glad to have her friend back more than anything.

Isabela frowned around her own grin. "This is your damned influence, Hawke." she let out a breathy chuckle and lowered her eyes. "I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic."

The Arishok turned the book over to one of the few remaining Qunari and said, "The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen... with the thief."

All of Hawke's relief knotted back up and sunk in to her gut. Her head whipped around to stare at the Arishok in disbelief. "What?" Isabela grunted in shock.

Hawke's hands went clammy and she felt dizzy. This was not happening. Why couldn't he just leave and take his damned Qunari with him? "Oh, no, no, no..." Aveline said scoldingly, moving to stand with Hawke between her and Isabela. "If anyone kicks her ass, it's me."

The Arishok looked none too pleased with the challenge. "She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us."

Hawke shook her head, stepping even closer to the angry Arishok. "You have your relic. She stays with us." Her clammy fists balled in challenge.

"I'm sure he'll take that well," Varric grumbled. "Rivaini? You might want to move a bit this way."

"Then you leave me no choice," the Arishok said. Where anyone else might have sighed, he remained stoic. "I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death with _her_ as the prize."

Nausea fell over Hawke and her skin flushed in fear. Anders' magic flared, but before either of them could protest, Isabela spoke out. "No! If you're going to duel anyone, duel me!"

The Arishok looked down his nose at her. "You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy."

"Don't you have what you came for?" Hawke growled.

"You know we do not suffer thieves. She cannot walk away from this insult," he insisted. "I will take her. If you object, duty demands that we fight."

Hawke felt her fear harden as her sense of protection overcame her plain old sense. Her friends in Kirkwall had become like her family. There was nothing she wouldn't do to keep them safe. She couldn't save her actual family. Now she needed to make up for that. Sure Isabela had made mistakes, but handing her over to the Qunari was simply not going to happen. "All right," Hawke absently cracked her knuckles, accepting the challenge from her current biggest fear. "Let's dance."

Anders' hand was around her bicep and he tugged her a step away from the Arishok, forcing her to turn and face him. "Have you gone mad?!" he hissed.

Hawke set her determination over her expression. "This is the only way," she returned as she felt his fear and his barrier clinging to her skin. If she was to do the honorable thing, he needed to let her do it. "Drop the barrier, Anders."

She watched the struggle of his emotions before he cringed and his hand tightened on her arm as the magic receeded. "Please, don't."

"I'll be fine. You'll see. I love you." She reached up and pulled his head down to her so she could press a gentle kiss on his lips. She tasted salty tears and in her turmoil at what she was about to do, she was uncertain if they had come from his eyes or hers. When she pulled away, she needed to push him away from her and Varric and Aveline both laid hands on him to keep him back. Isabela sheepishly moved around to stand on the sidelines.

The throne room below the dais had been cleared out while she spoke with Anders and she found that she and the Arishok were the only ones remaining on the floor. "Meravas! So shall it be!" he shouted as she pulled her staff and twirled it so the crystal faced the ground. Her magic was going to do little damage in this fight, so she quietly flicked the blade from the bottom of her staff. She had never seen the Arishok fight and she was frightened to realize that she had no idea what to expect. His axe in his right hand and his sword in his left glinted in the light of the throne room.

To throw him off guard, she immediately went on the offensive, giving a hearty war cry and rushing at him, staff blade held high. He hadn't expected the tiny mage to rush him and he barely got his weapons crossed in time to block her from cleaving his head. The physical magic she was pumping into her arms gave her a modicum of strength to hold him from pushing her back. Instead, she spun away and stabbed for him again from a greater distance. Again he parried and she ducked under the swing of both his weapons. When she straightened, he was swinging down and she blocked him with her staff and reached out with a magically enhanced right hook, slamming her gauntlet into his face. She hit him so hard, he stumbled away from her, blood spraying onto the carpet from his mouth. He turned and snorted at her as she took a fighting stance again like he was a bull ready to charge. He ran at her spitting blood and their bodies collided before they even raised blades, his attempt to headbutt her forcing her to turn her vulnerable shoulder to him. She backpedaled briefly before his blades met hers again. He was swinging both of them together and she caught hold of the axe with her staff blade and whirled it in a tight circle before yanking it away. It wrenched from his twisted hand and flew across the room, landing out of reach and she took advantage of his surprise to stab for him. He barely got hold of her staff to block her and pushed away from her. She drove at him relentlessly, her smaller and more compact form quicker than him. She leapt into the air, bringing her blade down like she had seen Fenris and Carver do so many times with practiced ease. He dipped out of the way and her blade hit the ground, the metal and stone making sparks. She recovered quickly to whip the blade for his face, but he ducked backwards beneath her swing and as she turned it back, his sword met it. Her arm fell to her side and she dropped her staff as he grabbed her by the neck. She almost immediately saw stars as he choked her, and headbutted her before pushing her backwards and away from her staff. She called her magic, shaking off her daze at being cracked in the skull with his bony horn, and pressed her gauntleted palm to his face, searing his flesh. He backpedaled, letting her go and roaring in pain. She dropped down to retrieve her staff. Without hesitation, knees still on the ground, she slammed the butt of it to the ground and the fire she summoned raced across the ground in a wave toward him. He jerked out of the way and whipped up a tornado to blow the fire out. Then he rushed her again, his axe back in his hands somehow. She held her staff up above her, bearing the brunt of his swings. Her hands were nearly numb from the vibration of the collisions with her staff as she held him off. Finally, he swung from the side and there was nothing she could do. The pointed tip between the heads of his axe bit into her flesh, cutting her open diagonally from side to side. She heard a voice shout and before the magic could hit her as she fell to her knees, she clutched her abdomen and held out a hand to stave off the forfeit. The world swam around her as she attempted to breathe, fiery pain lancing through her gut. She looked down at the blood pooling in her right hand and anger suffused her. She grabbed the other end of her staff and with everything she had, shot a thick bolt of lightning for the Arishok. With widened eyes, he stepped out of the way and the bolt slammed into a statue behind him, shattering the stone. He spun to regard her as she got to her feet, leaning on her staff. He twirled his weapons and whipped them down toward her. She barely blocked the hit and he knocked her staff from her hands again. As it fell, his knee came up and once again, stars ignited in her vision as he knocked her back with a knee to her chin. She managed to get to her hands and knees, crawling pitifully away from him as he slowly advanced on her, believing with his smug look that he had won. As she dragged herself to her feet, her eyes fell on the people she loved. And she found herself backed into a corner. She leaned against the cool stone of the wall and flashes of happier times whipped across her memories.

Suddenly, she found herself in the Fade. She stood in place, bloodied and broken and watched as Anders destroyed himself without her. She watched Isabela dragged, day after day, into a torture chamber as she paid for her crimes against the Qun. She watched Merrill succumbing to demons and massacring her clan. She watched Aveline, tired of the lawlessness of it all and giving up on her hard won morals. She watched Fenris get recaptured by Danarius and forced into slavery again before killing himself. And finally, she watched Varric drink himself to death because there was nothing the great fixer could do to fix any of it now that Hawke was gone. She had to live. The alternative was too much to bear. She felt the presence around her as the demon lapped up her rage at the Arishok. Without even looking at the fiery monster, she gritted her teeth and accepted it's help. "What do I do?"

A feeling of victory washed over her and an image of a rune flashed through her head. Outside the Fade, time was moving at a snail's pace. She watched as if hovering over her own body. She took the knowledge from the demon and combined it with what she had learned from the books on Blood Magic that Anders and Fenris had retrieved from Quentin's quarters. Nausea gripped her gut as her fingers, covered in sharpened gauntlets, reached over and carved the rune into her left bicep. The pain was nothing compared to what she was doing. She was accepting the help of a demon. She felt wrong and dirty and she cringed as she remembered back on how hateful Anders was whenever Merrill dabbled with Blood Magic.

"Forgive me," she whispered softly as she drew on the blood dripping from her arm and from her stomach and it swirled around her, creating an impenetrable barrier of warmth. The Arishok was still coming at her, and suddenly, the world around her snapped back into reality and time returned to normal. Hawke used the blood, replacing her dwindled mana with the power in her veins. The momentary euphoria frightened her as she cast a wall of ice to keep the Arishok away from her. It jutted up from the ground in perfectly formed spikes like she had never been able to accomplish before. When she looked at the Arishok as he tried to find a way around the sharp stalagmites, her rage resurfaced, her eyes burning with fury, and her skin cracked into red rivulets as the demon reached out to coil it's presence around her like a snake. She summoned her spirit arms and grabbed hold of the Arishok's shoulders. To her surprise, he cried out in pain. Her spirit arms burned with mage fire. She let out a wrenching cry of disgust with herself as she jerked her arms apart and tore the Arishok in two.

Her ears began to ring as she dropped to her knees, the demon receding and promising to return to collect on it's debt. She wrapped shaking arms around her gut and swallowed the tears threatening to surface. Even before her friends could make it to her side, the doors slammed open and Meredith and the cavalry entered. When the scene around her unfolded and Hawke cringed, glad that Meredith hadn't witnessed what had just happened, Meredith gaped. "Is it... over?"

The assembled Qunari began to silently admit defeat and made for the exit. "It's over," Hawke grunted, forcing herself to stand, fumbling for her staff and leaning heavily on it as all of the cuts and bruises of the fight as well as ones from earlier in the evening began to fall on her at once. Her exhaustion was also resurfacing. She nearly broke down as she felt Anders' arms wrap protectively around her. She couldn't speak to his mood, but the fact that he was willing to touch her gave her a modicum of hope that he didn't hate her. She leaned her weight on him, touching her cheek to the soft feathers of his pauldrons.

Meredith looked around, her expression slightly dumbfounded. "The city has been saved!" One of the nobles shouted from the dais and cheers and shouts of relief sounded.

Hawke wanted nothing more than to be healed and get the hell out of there where Meredith's glare couldn't continue to pick her apart. The templar in question pursed her lips and held a hand out to Hawke. "Well done. It appears Kirkwall has a new Champion."

Hawke tentatively accepted the handshake as she began to feel the effects of blood loss from the long gash still throbbing along her middle. She was certain that Meredith was going to pull her from Anders' arms and throw her in chains. Instead, the handshake was short and curt and Meredith released her quickly. She gritted her teeth and rasped in a soft voice. "If you don't mind, I think I need a healer."

Meredith's eyes remained narrowed as if she despised having to let Kirkwall's new Champion free to mage around the city unsupervised, but she nodded slowly. "Of course. I will be in touch."

 _Fuck_. Hawke thought as Anders ushered her from the Keep quickly. The others followed close behind, excluding Aveline who stayed behind to be Guard Captain and help clean up. As Anders practically carried her down the stairs to the Keep, she noticed two figures stood outside her front door. "Kaffas! What in the Void happened in there?" Fenris demanded as they approached.

Anders grumbled as he pushed past the angry elf and the concerned Prince. Varric put it in simple terms as Anders got Hawke inside. "Hawke decided that chivalric acts needed to be taken."

"What does that mean?" Sebastian asked as he followed the crowd inside.

"She fought the Arishok in single combat... for me..." Isabela said, managing to sound guilty and disgusted.

Fenris took Hawke's opposite side as she began to slump, her legs not really working as they should. He and Anders deposited her gently in a chair and Anders began to expertly remove her armor. After years, he was quick about it, knowing where every last buckle was hidden. Varric brought him wash cloths and a basin of water. Anders' hand hovered over the bowl and a quick snap of mana warmed the water. Once her ruined top was off, he gently dabbed one of the cloths in the water and began to suss out the damage. She hissed as the water touched the slash in her stomach but managed to give a short, wry chuckle as she noticed everyone's eyes were on her. "Sebastian, Varric, it's your lucky day. Not everyone gets to see the Champion of Kirkwall in her smalls."

Sebastian immediately cringed, looking away with a flush in his cheeks, and Varric offered her a short smile before taking her hand in his. "Hush now, Chuckles. Let your boyfriend work his magic. I think you're about spent."

Anders laid his palms on either side of the gash and the warmth of his magic nearly took her breath away as her skin began to knit together. "Andraste's ass," she grunted, squeezing Varric's hand. Next he moved to her face, blatantly avoiding the rune carved into her flesh, and tipping her chin back and forth to assess the damage from both the headbutt and the knee to the chin. Now that her stomach had been healed, she could feel the throbbing bruises all the more. She attempted to meet his gaze as he studied her injuries, but his honey eyes refused to truly look at her. She couldn't blame him. She wasn't feeling that great about herself right then. How could she expect Anders to accept her now that she had so spectacularly showed her willingness to deal with a demon to save her own ass? But was that truly why she had done it? She closed her eyes and thought back on the images that had flashed through her head. It had all been for them. They needed her. At least that was what she was telling herself. She was also telling herself, _never again_.

Anders brought the swelling down in her face before healing the inner damage and then running another spell around her neck where the Arishok had grabbed her. Finally he sighed and took hold of her arm where the rune blazed like a beacon. He said the first words he had spoken since leaving the Keep and startled her eyes back open. "I don't think I can heal this..."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Isabela demanded, her hands falling to her hips.

Anders turned her arm so he could get a better look at the rune and pursed his lips. "Because it was carved there with intention. That mark is not going anywhere any time soon." He sighed and hung his head, his grip on her arm loosening. "I can try to close the wound, but there will undoubtedly be a scar."

"Dammit, Hawke," Isabela growled, crossing her arms. "Why would you... ugh!" She threw her arms up in the air and turned on her heel before leaving the mansion, the door slamming behind her.

"You're welcome," Hawke mumbled childishly.

"She's right," Anders growled, his magic coursing over her in a vain attempt to heal the dripping wound. When nothing happened he made a frustrated sound and continued. "This was a horrible idea."

"Would you prefer if I was the one ripped in half by the Arishok?" she snapped back, defending her decision simply because he was scolding her.

She felt his spirit bolt slam into her chest as he lashed out.When she cried out in pain, her chest heaving, he pulled her against him, hugging her head to his chest. "I had to be sure, love," he whispered gently. When he released her, he brushed her bangs back and heedless of the crowd in the room he asked. "What did you promise?"

She shrugged. "Nothing.... yet."

"That demon isn't just going to go away," he reminded her. "It has your scent now."

"So the next time it shows it's ugly face, I'll kill it," she assured him.

"Let's hope it's that simple," Fenris added from a short distance away.

Anders studied her face and his hand once again reached for the basin and the wet rag. He proceeded to clean up the blood that was beginning to coagulate on her skin and Sebastian excused himself. "So the Knight-Commander knows your face now, and she looked none too pleased to be handing that title over to you," Varric pointed out. "What are you going to do now?"

"Take a vacation until this all blows over. Laying low will make me look like a well behaved citizen and hopefully keep Meredith from clapping me in irons," Hawke suggested with a shrug as Anders slapped a salve on and wrapped a bandage around the rune, covering it up.

"Because she is the picture of reason," Anders grumbled under his breath.

Hawke ran fingers through his hair in a soothing motion, fighting off a yawn as the warmth of the nearby fireplace sapped what little energy she had left. "Fenris, what were you and Sebastian doing here?"

"I heard the mayhem in the streets. I thought to find you and lend aid. I had to fight through the Qunari to get to your mansion, but apparently I was late. I ran into the Prince outside the Chantry, defending the Mothers," Fenris informed her. "I assisted him for a time before things quieted down."

Hawke nodded and the yawn forced it's way past her lips. "So the only one not accounted for is Merrill. Varric, could you please check on her before you turn in?"

"Bianca and I will make sure she's in one piece. You look exhausted Hawke. You should get some sleep," he agreed with a smirk.

"I will... leave you two alone," Fenris said awkwardly as Anders stood from his crouch.

"Thank you... for coming by," she said before he disappeared.

When the room was empty, Anders crossed his arms and glared down at her. "Go ahead and say it," she urged, her exhaustion creeping further up from her core and clouding her vision as another yawn shook her whole body. She suddenly realized she was chilled and shuddering.

"I really don't think I need to," Anders barked. "It seems from your expression that you already know that what you did was..."

"Unforgivable? Inexcusable? Yes, Anders. I know." She hugged herself, her teeth beginning to chatter. "I made a desperate choice and it was not one of my finer moments... I'm sorry."

He took note of her discomfort and was quiet for a moment before he moved to her side and knelt again to touch his palm to her forehead. "You've lost a lot of blood and you're running on an empty mana pool. I don't know how you're even still conscious." He sighed and his hand traced down her face to cup her cheek. "I know you meant well, love. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'll settle for getting myself into bed right now," she quipped with another yawn.

A small smile quirked his lips and he shook his head. When he stood, he gently pulled her with him and she fell into his chest, her legs wobbly and the room spinning. "I can help with that."

He swept her up, cradling her against him and carefully carried her up to their bed. She was asleep before he even hit the top of the stairs.

 


	15. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke deals with her guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter to make way for a longer one to follow.

_The Fade felt restless. She glanced around, waiting for the inevitable appearance of the fiery demon of rage that she had given herself over to. The air around her wobbled and her writing desk and chair were perched impossibly on the wall, challenging gravity. As Anders approached her from the hallway, she frowned, immediately recognizing that something was wrong, but not able to put a finger on it just yet. He smiled at her, holding his arms out for her to fall into his embrace. What she did instead was lift her arms up to rest between them as he hugged her. "I figured you might need a body guard tonight in case that demon returned," he said, pulling back from her and offering her a short smile._

_The rune on her arm was throbbing, the angry cuts pulsing with her heartbeat as she tried to figure out what was wrong with this picture. She gripped her bicep with her right hand and squeezed. Anders' image wavered momentarily and them she recognized what was wrong. "You know, if you're going to try and trick me by pretending to be my lover, you might wish to do some more digging through my memories."_

_He smiled softly and tipped his head. "What are you talking about, love?"_

_She cringed as the demon used Anders' pet name for her and hugging herself she manifested a dagger in her palm, hidden by her body. She snorted. "Sorry, I guess I'm just jumpy."_

_"Perhaps I could... help you relax?" he offered suggestively._

_She swallowed her nausea as the fake Anders wiggled his eyebrows. "Oooh, Fade sex. That's new. You'd better make sure you're concentrating really hard. You wouldn't want to make anything... too small," she said with a feigned smirk as she moved closer to him. Before he could even retort, she whipped the dagger up and buried it hilt deep in his chest. As his expression faltered and the demon's lie flickered into view she growled. "Did you think I was that stupid? You'll not be getting anything from me. Begone." She wrenched the knife to the side, then pulled it back out._

When the demon fell and it's body melted back into the ground, Hawke jerked awake. She gasped in a terrified breath and reached for Anders. He was not in his usual spot. Her heart raced and she whipped her head around to scour the room. Her arm still throbbed just like it had in the Fade, and she rubbed her hand absently over the bandage as her eyes fell on him. He had changed from his armor and apparently tried to stay up to keep an eye on her. Instead, she smiled as she watched him snore softly, head on the writing desk and quill limply in his fingers.

She slipped her legs from the bed, the sheets rustling softly. Anders never flinched. She pulled on her robe and padded softly from the room. She had a mission. Never again was she going to tolerate the use of blood magic. Her fingers still felt sticky, like she had dipped them in tar. How Merrill lived like this all of the time, she would never guess. Down the stairs and into the library she headed, gathering all of Quentin's books. She would not become him. Each book weighed heavy in her arms as she took them down to the reading room and set them with a thunk on the desk. She calmly dipped into her replenished mana pool and closed her eyes, reveling in the smooth and silky texture of her own magic as it cascaded to her fingertips. She opened her eyes and sighed as the flame flickered in her palm, waiting to be directed. She cupped her other hand around it, allowing the mana charged ball of fire to leech away the sticky remnants of the blood magic. Then with another sigh, she flicked her fingers toward the hearth, lighting a roaring fire. The warmth filled the room and warmed her chilled toes. She set to work.

She ripped chapters from the tomes, and imagined the pages screaming as she tossed them in the flames where they ignited, giving off the distinctive scent of burning paper. She cringed at the blatant burning of knowledge, but no amount of learning was worth her soul. One act of blood magic was enough to last her a life time. Blood Magic was said to corrupt the user, to turn them from their morals and eventually they became an abomination. Merrill was extremely strong willed, or her demon was patient.

Hawke spitefully threw the leather binding into the fire and grunted. She prayed that the demon that had come to her was truly dead. She hated that she had ever even asked it for help. As she moved to the next book, Anders strode into the room. "There you are, love. Everything all right?" She leaned on the stack of books, unable to look at him. He approached her, his hands slipping around her waist so he could hug her, his face burying itself at the nape of her neck. "Couldn't sleep?" He laid a soft kiss before pulling away to turn her to face him.

She laid her hands on his chest, the scar from his encounter with the templar Warden peeking from his open tunic. She sighed, her finger tracking over it. "I don't know how Merrill lives with herself. I feel like I need a bath that will scrub the skin from my body."

He pulled her into another hug, kissing the top of her head. When he pulled away again and reached around her, he hummed. "Are these Quentin's books? You kept those?"

She shrugged. "At the time, knowledge was knowledge. I never thought I would ever need, or be able to do, the things I read about. Like your spirit healing books. I can read all I want, but I'll never be able to master it." She picked up the next book on the top of the pile and moved over to the fire where the binding from the last book was dripping onto the stone below the logs. She began to rip pages from the book in her hands and let them flutter one by one into the flames. "How are you so calm about this?"

Anders moved up beside her and started on his own book, helping her to cut all ties to blood magic in her library. He sighed. "I love you, Hawke. I've known you for five years. We've lived together for two. I've seen just about every mood and we've shared so much. One time in all those years have I seen you so desperate that you turned to the Fade for help. That 'help' probably saved your life. Now that I see you so bothered by the act, to be honest, I'm just relieved you're alive."

She slammed the partially ripped up book closed and tossed it into the flames, angry with herself. "Meredith is calling me a hero... A Champion... I don't feel quite so heroic." she looked down at her own hands and then rubbed them on her robe before turning to get another book.

"Fuck Meredith," Anders said. "As if she is some saint."

They quietly finished off the rest of the books, Hawke's heart feeling lighter now that the physical connection was gone. If only she could burn the knowledge from her brain. She rubbed at her arm. "Thank you..." she whispered softly. "For not hating me."

He chuckled and took her hand, sweeping her into his arms. "Sweetheart, I don't think that is actually possible. Let me show you something." He lifted is palm, holding it flat in the air between them and indicating that she should touch hers to it. A trickle of magic flowed between them as she touched him and he smiled. Then he closed his eyes and she felt him give a tug to her mana, casting from her core and using her like a focus. Her fingers tingled and she felt the familiar spark of electricity as tiny bolts arched between their hands. She shuddered and when she turned her gaze back to him, he was smiling at her. "Nothing between us has changed." He laced their fingers together and pulled her hand to him, kissing her knuckles. Briefly, his expression faltered and he looked troubled as he held heavy eye contact with her. "About the demon that helped you..."

"It's gone. I think..." she said as he lifted the other hand from her hip and touched her face. "It came to me while I was sleeping... pretended to be you... I knew it was a lie. There was no Justice. I've been in the Fade with you before... I had no qualms with stabbing it in the chest."

Anders looked down at her with a smirk on his face. "We are going to have to have a talk about you killing me in the Fade. It happens a lot."

She snorted. "At least this time it wasn't actually you." She shrugged. "I suppose I may have hesitated for a moment, but I know you, and I know your Fade self as well." She mirrored his gesture, lightly touching her fingers to the side of his face and tracing down his cheek, the familiar stubble a welcome roughness.

He palmed the back of her neck, pulling her lips to his in an urgent kiss. He swallowed her aroused moan, backing her against the wall. Just like their first kiss, the urgency abruptly paused as he leaned his forehead to hers before giving her another gentler brush of his mouth. "I say we put this whole mess behind us and relax for a bit before the templars come knocking."

He pulled on the sash of her robe, tugging her along as he backed toward the stairs to the bedroom. She refused to move, smirking and hooking her own finger into the V of his tunic collar. "I say we relax right here." She took his shoulders and guided him around, forcing him to sit in the wingback where she read when he wasn't around. Normally, they curled up at the top of the stairs when they would read or study together. She knelt in front of him, a devilish grin playing across her lips as she slid her hands up his thighs and then began to unlace his trousers. His hands gripped the arms of the chair as she released him, already beginning to harden before she even got to work. He lifted his hips, allowing her to guide his pants off and she laid a kiss on his tip before he dropped back to the seat. Then she put herself between his legs, reaching up under his tunic to feel the rise and fall of his chest as she dipped her head, taking him in her mouth. She focused heat into her hands and massaged his balls as he grew in her mouth. Opening her throat, she swallowed him, his chest rising and falling heavily as he enjoyed her attention. She worked him until he was completely ready and then slowly drew her mouth from him. Then she stood, backing up a few steps and slowly untying the sash on her robe until the front fell open, exposing a strip of flesh from her neck down. He took in the entire picture as she teasingly swung the sash in her hand with a grin, swaying her hips just out of his reach. Then she dropped the sash and tucked her middle fingers beneath the silky fabric and traced it down, before going back up and shrugging it off her shoulders. It pooled on the floor at her feet and she padded over to him. He had watched her little show in appreciation, the excited grin glued to his face, when she was close enough, he reached up and cupped her breasts in his palms as she straddled his legs, making room on the chair for her knees. The position put her chest in his face and he leaned into her, taking one breast in his mouth and swallowing her as she had him. The pressure hardened her nipple and as he dragged his mouth from her he took it between his teeth and gave a soft nip. She gasped and pushed her hips toward him, his hands moving around to grip her rear as he focused his attention on the other breast. She grazed over him and he chuckled with a mouth full of her breast, making her repeat the sensation teasingly. He used his left hand to give her ass a sharp slap and she gasped again, leaning her head down so she could tease him some more in hopes of receiving another reprimand. She laid light, moist kisses on his neck, and then began to take little bites along his collar. Her hands wandered down to lift his tunic up over his head and expose his chest to her as his own hands moved up her back with heat in his touch. She moved her mouth to his ear, nibbling on his lobe before whispering softly. "How does it feel to be fucked by the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"Let's find out," he returned, lifting his hips and pulling her down onto him with rough hands on her hips. She let out a soft moan at the abrupt entrance as he sheathed himself easily. "Maker, you're so wet."

She ground her hips against him, moving in slow circles, and making him throw his head into the back of the chair. Then she claimed his mouth, her tongue entering him as he was inside her. He sat forward, reaching his arms around her, one caressing up her spine and his fingers wrapping in her hair to pull her head to the side so he could ravish her neck. He was breathing roughly against her neck and her own heart raced as the pressure and pleasure built between her legs. She couldn't help the tiny whimpers of pleasure as he continuously caressed and filled her so deep that she could feel him in her navel. The angle was both pleasure and pain and she couldn't get enough. "Don't stop," she begged, feeling him begin to falter. "Maker's breath." She gripped his shoulders. "Anders," she moaned.

In another breathtaking moment, his fingers were digging into her back and she slipped her fingers beneath his ponytail, gripping his hair and pulling his head against her as she gasped and her orgasm washed over her body. "Maker's tears, love," he murmured as the sensation of his orgasm expanded and contracted against her. She turned his head and pressed her lips gently against his.

She leaned into him, collapsing in his lap and not even bothering to lift herself from him. Shifting to one side, she traced lazy circles on his chest as they rode out the euphoria. "Thank you," she said softly, her eyes falling on the bandage on her arm. "For not hating me, I mean."

He hummed a soft chuckle, his chest bouncing her head. "I could never hate you."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. "It's just... I know how you feel about... what I did..."

He cut her off by pulling her head to him and kissing her. "Stop worrying about it. It's relaxation time. Now, relax."

Before she could lay her head back down on him, the loud boom of the door knocker resounded through the house and she jumped in surprise as Justice flashed across Anders' face, small blue cracks forming briefly on his face before he closed his eyes and suppressed the spirit. Hawke patted him on the chest, leaning in for one last kiss before getting up and putting her robe back on. Whoever was at the door at this hour was not one of her friends. They all would let themselves in. She left the reading room, seeing Orana hurrying from upstairs in her own housecoat. She held up a hand to the girl who smiled gently and nodded, diverting to the kitchen. Hawke picked up her staff as she crossed into the foyer, her magic primed. When she pulled open the heavy door, she was surprised to see the man standing on the other side of it, his hand upraised as if her were going to knock a second time. "Cullen?" she lowered her guard as his upraised hand moved to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "What are you doing here? It's barely morning."

"Hawke..." She felt Anders coming up behind her as Cullen stopped mid explanation to glance over her shoulder at him. "I...uh... I was asked by Meredith to 'check in' on our Champion. She said you took quite the beating from the Arishok."

Hawke smirked, attempting to remove the awkwardness from Cullen's expression at her appearance in the robe and Anders' state of half dressed, both their hair toussled and the small love marks she had left on his neck. "You should see the other guy."

Cullen gaped for a moment before pressing his lips together. "Quite... It seems that none of the witnesses in the throne room, nor our Guard Captain can quite recall how the Arishok ended up in two smoking pieces on the floor. I'll assume I shouldn't ask?"

"Meredith sent you alone?" Hawke asked curiously, skirting his hidden question.

"The Knight-Commander is well aware of your... abilities, but she is under quite a bit of scrutiny as of late and arresting the savior of the city is a political disaster that even she can not ignore. With the Viscount dead, the position will need to be filled. Meredith is holding the seat for the time being," he said curtly.

"That'll end well," Hawke said with a snort, leaning her staff in the doorway and crossing her arms. "Listen, Cullen, as you can see, I was seen by a healer, and I am perfectly fine. You can tell that to Meredith."

He glanced between her and Anders again and then his hand found the back of his neck again. "Right... I'll uh... I'll be going. I'm... I'm glad you're all right. Have a pleasurable... oh... I didn't... I meant _pleasant_ day." As he turned on his heel she heard him mutter softly. "Maker's breath."

As he disappeared around the corner, Hawke closed the door and snickered. "A blow struck against the Chantry as the Champion of Kirkwall makes the Knight-Captain blush. Varric would have loved to be here for that."

"If sending him was all Meredith has up her sleeve, I am suddenly feeling like our opponent is less formidable than I'd thought," Anders quipped.

 

Over the next couple of weeks as the city began to repair the damage left in the wake of the Qunari, Hawke started noticing quite a few more templars standing in the Keep where Guards used to post. She narrowed her eyes at them as she made her way to Aveline's office. They hadn't had much chance to communicate since the Arishok. Aveline had asked her to stop by when she got the chance and she wasn't particularly busy, so here she was. "Hello, Guard Captain!" Hawke said merrily, the short sleeved tunic she was wearing showing off her bright red scar as she sauntered into the office and dropped onto Aveline's desk.

"Hawke... You're looking well," Aveline greeted her with a smile.

"So are you... that smile. Is there something going on that I should know about?" Hawke asked with her own grin, crossing her arms.

"That's actually why I asked you here," Aveline said, her cheeks flushing mildly. "Donnic has asked for my hand, and I've accepted."

"You're getting married!" Hawke nearly shouted as Aveline rushed over to close the office door. "Oh, when's the date? I'll need to have a dress made. What are your feelings on ruffles?" she teased.

"I was actually hoping you might stand as my witness," Aveline said, her hands wringing together. "Neither Donnic nor I want anything too flashy. It's just not us."

"Even after the spectacle you caused in getting together?" Hawke said in feigned shock. "There should be fireworks... and Marigolds..."

Aveline pursed her lips around a smile. "I'm starting to regret asking you."

"I promise I'll behave," Hawke said, lifting a hand. "Of course I'll stand with you. Let me at least throw you a reception at my place. Please?"

Aveline rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine, but Hawke, I mean it. Nothing too big, all right?"

 

A month later, Aveline had walked down the aisle, she and Donnic's union blessed by the revered mother. She looked gorgeous in her simple long sleeved eggshell white dress, carrying the marigolds that Hawke had suggested. The ceremony was short with an exchanging of vows and rings and then a simple blessing. Aveline, Donnic, Sebastian and Hawke all left the Chantry and headed for Hawke's mansion. The sun was warm and Hawke's dress fluttered against her legs in the light spring breeze. She couldn't wait to get back to the mansion where she and the rest of the house had been at work for nearly three days making sure everything was perfect. Orana had agreed to play the lute after Hawke had assured her that she would not be shirking her serving duties by doing so. She, Anders, and Merrill had enchanted tiny crystals that floated above their heads throughout the house, twinkling with magelight. There was enough food and booze to knock a horde of full grown Qunari on their asses, and Hawke had made up little favors for everyone to take home. Donnic had invited a few of his friends, but there were not many people on the guest list.

When they entered the foyer and the large banner over the door read 'Congratulations Hendyrs', Aveline looked at Hawke out of the corner of her eye. "You didn't go over the top, did you?"

"Me?" Hawke asked in shock. "I'm offended, Aveline."

"Sure you are," Aveline said with a chuckle as Hawke ushered them into the common room and all of the guests were waiting. Rice rained down on the couple as they entered and Hawke shot a wink at a surprised Aveline.

"I expect that rice to be put to good use. Someone around here needs to have children for me to corrupt." Hawke chuckled before moving past them and greeting Anders warmly.

"Corrupt your own children," Aveline grunted halfheartedly, brushing rice lovingly from Donnic's hair. He leaned in and kissed her softly.

Hawke glanced over and gave a small nod to Orana who began to strum on the lute and sing softly, her voice carrying around the room. Hawke grinned widely. "The couple are married, the guests are all here and the food and drink are waiting to be consumed. The bride and groom get first dance!"

Anders pulled Hawke to the side as Donnic pulled Aveline into a slow, swaying dance to match Orana's playing. "You look beautiful," he said, not having seen her dress yet.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, playing her fingers in his hair. "You don't look half bad yourself she commented in response to his tailored doublet and trousers. "Green is your color."

"And red is yours," he agreed, tracing his fingers along her collar. "But we already knew that." She reached up and kissed him as the party began to pick up around them.

Later on in the evening, Hawke took it upon herself to relieve Bodhan of the trouble of going back to the cellar for more wine. She was digging through crates, looking for the best couple of bottles she could find when the creak of a floorboard deeper in the cellar caught her ear. She ceased her shuffling and listened, her mana stirring. She heard definitive footsteps coming up from the lower level and knew there should be no one down there. She closed her eyes and pictured the doorway that led down the stairs and painted a glyph in her minds eye that she laid on the floor. She waited for the intruders to appear and at the snap of magic, she spun to see who she had caught.

Unpredictably, she had caught one dwarf, but two others with him had not been inside the glyph when it sprang. They rushed toward her, shouting and daggers flashing. One of them got around her and jabbed for her side. She barely stepped out of the way as the other slashed for her gut. She called her magic again, knocking one away while the other pounced again, recovering with inhuman speed. He sliced a gash in her arm and she grunted, calling a barrier around her while the second dwarf recovered nearly as quickly. The third was slowly being crushed to death by her magic and she focused her attention on the remaining threats. They both came at her at once and she cast a mind blast to knock them back and give herself a modicum of breathing room, but it only lasted a few seconds. The dwarf who had already cut her shouted something about blood and swiped at her again. She side stepped the blow, but he swung back in the opposite direction and cut a gash along her ribs on the left. "Who the fuck are you people?" she wondered to herself as she focused her mana on one threat at a time. The crazy dwarves were likely not going to answer her any time soon.

She summoned a fireball and threw it at the one rushing her from the right and then swung her right hand before her, summoning a crackling bolt of lightning that struck the other dwarf in the chest. The one on fire still rushed at her and she grabbed him up in a spirit fist and jerked him to the ground, crushing him under her magic. She took a moment to regain her breath and spindle a bit more mana back into her core before making her way back up to the main floor. She poked her head into the kitchen and saw Sandal having a good old time raiding the larder with Alfie. She whistled sharply and Alfie turned toward her, ears perked and chest jutted forward. His tongue fell from his mouth and he looked rather proud of himself until he scented her blood. He padded to her side and she gave him a reassuring pat. "Sandal, can you fetch Anders and Varric and bring them here, please?" she asked.

"Enchantment!" Sandal said in affirmation and hurried from the kitchen. She hoped he did not make a spectacle. Aveline didn't need to know about any of this mess.

Hawke made her way back down the stairs, Alfie at her heels and she checked the rest of the basement to be sure she had handled all of the intruders. She didn't want any more surprises. "Hawke!?" Varric called from back up in the kitchen and she headed back up, poking her head out to see that they were alone. "What in Andraste's name are you doing?" he asked when she appeared.

"I just had to handle some party crashers in the basement," she explained as Anders entered with Sandal and closed the kitchen door.

"Maker," Anders gasped as he saw the state she was in. He moved to her side and touched a hand to her shoulder to heal the knife wounds. "All right, love?"

"Yes, thank you. Varric, these crazies were dwarves, I wanted to see if you recognized their clothes or even their faces. I know you deal closely with the Merchant's Guild," she said, beckoning them to follow her.

"What sort of dwarf would be crazy enough to break into your house, Hawke?" Varric asked as he fell in at the rear of the group.

"They were definitely crazy... shouting about blood and waving their weapons around like madmen." She led them to the bodies and Varric knelt beside the one she had struck with the lightning.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," he mumbled. "It seems to be... unhealthy."

"Do you recognize any of them?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No, but this gear is Carta," he explained getting back to his feet.

"What would the Carta want with me?" Hawke wondered.

"Good question. I'll put some feelers out and see if I can't get some information. For now, though, don't go into any dark alleys alone," he patted her elbow as he passed by to head back upstairs.

 


	16. Vinmark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancient Family Secrets call Hawke from Kirkwall for a stroll through the Deep Roads.

A few weeks went by before Varric had any significant leads on the dwarves who had tried to kill her. She was attacked twice more in the meantime. Once again in her home, and another time quite publicly at Anders' clinic. When he got the news, he led her, Anders and Fenris so far from Kirkwall that they needed horses. North of the city in the Vinmark mountains there was apparently a chasm where a fortress had been built that no one knew anything about. As they approached the chasm Varric sighed. "All right, don't say I didn't warn you." He pointed across the way to a sandy wasteland. "There it is..."

Hawke reigned in her horse and squinted out over the desolate place. " _That's_ where your dwarves are?"

"These are Carta dwarves," Varric corrected. "so they're more criminals and smugglers than anything else." He rubbed his chin in thought. "They're not usually stupid, though. I don't know why they'd attack you."

"I can't think of anything we did to make the Carta angry... Today anyhow," she mused wryly getting off her horse.

"You have a plan, then? I found their hideout, but my sources couldn't tell me anything else. It's all very... strange," Varric said as he dismounted his own pony.

"Why do you say that?" she wondered as they all tied their horses to a pair of trees within watering distance of a small trickle of water running along the ground. "It's just the Carta, isn't it?"

Varric shook his head. "As far as my contacts in the Carta know, they shouldn't be here. There shouldn't even be a here. This place is invisible. A big blind spot on the map. Bianca's never been this suspicious, and she's twitchy to start with."

Hawke smiled slightly. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything. I get attacked a lot."

Varric chuckled. "A fine point. So what's the plan?"

Hawke waved her hand dismissively and her sarcasm slipped into place. "Oh, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Later we'll all have tea and we'll laugh."

"Oh!" Varric said with equal sarcasm. "your name is Hawke? I thought it was Locke!" He laughed at his own joke and she snorted softly.

Anders sneered a bit as he approached them. "I just don't like the idea they can get at you. It worries me."

Hawke pressed her lips together and patted his cheek gently. "Let's go," she said starting to walk toward whatever awaited them. Not much farther down the road they came across a cart, overturned and on fire. The crates it had been transporting were untouched and there were dwarven and Bronto bodies strewn all over. Hawke wrinkled her nose. "Someone doesn't like intruders."

"They're from the Merchant's Guild," Varric grumbled. "The Carta doesn't kill guild members! That's... really strange."

Hawke noted Varric's use of the words 'really strange' again and her skin began to crawl. This place was giving off a strange vibe and Anders hadn't stopped frowning since they had gotten within walking distance. As she carefully strolled along the dried up ravine that led them to the closest resemblance to a man made structure, she heard a raspy voice cry out from above. "It's the Hawke!"

"They'll alert others to our presence," Fenris growled angrily as his head whipped around, trying to find the source of the voice.

As they pushed further along the road, more shouts from the voice spoke of her blood and she swore she heard mention of her father's name. With building determination, she pressed forward. They passed under a broken down tunnel that led into more desert. At the end of the tunnel, the source of the voice finally showed himself. "You!" he shouted in awe. "You're finally here! You've come!" Hawke raised a single brow as she looked over the dwarf. She had never seen him before in her life. She had been convinced that there would be some deeper meaning to this and she would at least know the mastermind behind it all when she laid eyes on him. He was average looking in every aspect. Dark hair, beard, Carta uniform. The only thing off was his eyes. They were bugged and wild, dark rings around them showing either sickness or a severe lack of sleep. He turned from them and held up his hands as if praising the heavens. "Everyone! It's the child of Malcolm Hawke! She's come to us!"

"What does my father have to do with this?" she wondered, taking a defensive step forward as more dwarves began to descend on them. Her father had been dead nearly ten years.

"It began with him and ends with you! Blood for blood. That's what we were told," the crazed dwarf said with vigor.

"You're not making any sense," she informed him casually as he looked at her with an eerie sort of lust, like he wanted nothing more than to slice her to ribbons. Her companions noticed the expression as well and grouped around her.

"You've come to us now, and that's the only thing that matters!" he insisted.

"You tell me, how could I refuse such a delightfully worded invitation?" she snarked.

"We must have the blood! You don't understand!" the dwarf growled, sinking further into nonsense as they spoke.

"Oh, blood! Why didn't you just ask?" she continued with sarcasm.

The dwarf balled his fists. "We will take it! Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!"

The lead dwarf backed up and his flunkies drew weapons. Hawke's staff was in her hand in an instant, but she did little damage. Dwarves had a natural resistance to magic and whatever these dwarves were messing with, it made them downright impervious. Varric and Fenris picked up the slack that she and Anders left in their wake and as they fought waves upon waves of dwarves, they pushed further toward the gates to what looked like an arena. The whole time, Hawke wondered just who this Corypheus character was, and what her long dead father had to do with the Carta wanting her blood. Inside the gates, she realized it was less an arena than a heavily defended courtyard with wooden battlements surrounding it where more dwarves with bows crouched and rained arrows down on them. She did her best to stun the archers with her lightning while Fenris made his way up the nearest ramp to rush around the circle of ramparts and cut down the aggressors.

Once the ramparts were cleared and he headed down, she twirled her staff to carry it crystal to the ground so she could drag latent mana from the ground as they proceeded. "These dwarves are insane. Perhaps even more so than Varric," Fenris commented with a smirk.

"I heard that!" Varric commented with mock insult. Then he said to Hawke, "The Carta doesn't normally act like this. They're businessmen!"

Hawke grunted her agreement. "I'd like to know who this 'Corypheus' is. With a name like that, he's bound to go 'mwa-ha-ha' at some point. I just know it. And really? More blood? Why can't it ever be spit... or a lock of hair?"

Varric chuckled in disgust. "You really want to encounter a spit mage?"

She let out her own chuckle "For variety, sure." she shrugged.

They made it out of the pit-like enclosure and followed a walled off path deeper into the mountains toward the chasm. There were placards posted along the way that helpfully gave them a little bit of insight into the structure ahead. "A dwarven prison?" Fenris wondered after they passed by the first.

Varric shook his head. "Dwarves don't do prisons, elf. This is a trash heap. They threw something away here and hoped it wouldn't come back."

Hawke shuddered. "How many generations of warriors stood guard here? And why does that make me nervous?" To break the uncomfortable silence that followed her words, Hawke sighed. "Someday, I'll visit a place with no ancient evils, horrors, devouring plagues, or insanity... Maybe a beach."

Varric chuckled in disbelief. "The day you go to the beach would be the day an armada of angry demon pirates shows up."

Anders chuckled softly, but his heart wasn't in it. She could feel his tension as they approached the chasm. They rounded a corner and the structure came into view. Amgeforn if the placards could be believed. It was a massive tower built directly in the middle of the chasm. "Will you look at that?" she gasped, impressed with how well hidden a gigantic tower like that was.

"Some kind of fortress? Out here?" Fenris wondered in equal amazement. The fact that the elf of few words was talking more than Anders was testament to the fact that something was wrong with the mage. She glanced in worry at her lover and noted the twisted scowl on his face.

She pushed her concerns to the rear of her mind. She had a lot to contend with at the moment and Anders was a grown man. He had agreed to come and would not abandon her just because he didn't like the look of a place. They continued deeper into the chasm and toward her best guess at the entrance to the fortress. There was a collection of outbuildings before the main structure and they were crawling with more dwarves trying to kill them. As they fought through the seemingly endless horde, Hawke suddenly found herself in darkness as the chasm closed in around them. She kept hold of her staff during a break in the fighting and glanced at Varric. "I'm surprised you agreed to come, Varric. You hate being underground, and you avoid the Carta the same way you do the Merchant's Guild."

He chuckled. "There's no way I'd miss watching you make these motherless nug-lickers cry."

"How is it you get into these situations so often?" Fenris asked with a thin smirk.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He lifted his fingers and counted off. "Attacked by dwarves, approached by strangers, stumbling upon ancient riddles... madness."

"It's a gift," she said with her own smirk.

"Well I think you should return it," he said dryly.

She chuckled as they made their way down to a look out point in the structure they were in that gave them a sparkling view or the tower and the surrounding maze of tunnels and roads. It smelled of Deep Roads and Hawke realized she could see Darkspawn crawling all over the place. She sighed as it made her think of Carver. She stuck to their normal talkative routine as they continued on. "Varric, when you tell people about our escape from Lothering, why do you make it sound like I had food all over my face?"

"You're larger than life, Hawke!" he said like he always did in response to her criticisms of his portrayal of her. "I had to give you a few flaws, just to make you approachable."

"Did you just call me fat?" she asked in mock horror.

"Yes. That's pretty much how I tell it. 'Hawke rolled into the fray like a gigantic pudding covered in gravy.' It's more dramatic that way," he chuckled with a sigh.

Hawke wrinkled her nose. "Does it have to be gravy? Couldn't it be chocolate instead?"

He scoffed and flapped his hand dismissively. "Everyone's a critic."

As they began to see signs of life, Hawke decided to pause in each room and search for clues that might give her some insight into what they were really dealing with. The deeper they went, the more she realized that these dwarves were living here. She found a lengthy report by a scout in one of the first rooms.

_My team was sent to evaluate the fortified structures that overlook the northern caravan routes in the Vinmark Mountains. The Viscount's library suggests the buildings were part of an Ancient Grey Warden fortress, constructed to guard the pass but abandoned after the Free Marches gained independence from Tevinter._

_Our examination revealed construction that is remarkably sturdy for its age. The fortress' foundations reach deeper into the rock than expected. Two levels below the surface, we discovered a series of twisting, underground passages, chiseled out of the mountain itself. I commanded the men to set up camp there._

_Not an hour later, one of the newer men reported voices from the depths. He flew into a frenzy, demanding that we leave immediately. Those unused to tight spaces often display such hysteria. Thankfully, I was able to calm him before his raving affected the rest of the team._

_But he was gone this morning. Tracks lead deeper into the caverns. We shall follow him._

Hawke got a terrible feeling at the mention of Grey Wardens when she thought about Anders' increasing silent agitation. Varric lightly punched her arm. "I hope you told Bodhan where you were going. If we never come back, maybe someone will send a search party after their Champion." When she offered him little else than a forced grin he continued. "You have any idea why the Carta's after you, Hawke?"

"Not in the slightest," she shrugged, setting down the time worn paper and leaving the room. "But I intend to find out."

When they finally entered the Carta's apparent hideout, it was evident that they were all feeling the awkwardness of not knowing why they were even there. Between fights, even Fenris was talking more than usual. "So, Varric," he commented. "This 'spy network' of yours..."

"Oh, this I have to hear," Varric chuckled in amusement.

"You don't have one, do you? You make it all up," he asked in curiosity.

"Could be," Varric shrugged. "That, or I have an army of elven urchins, and they're all watching."

Fenris frowned and harrumphed. "You are a strange, hairy little man."

The constant and familiar banter was calming Hawke's nerves, but finally, Anders piped up, unexpectedly downtrodden and mildly conspiratorial. "While we're stuck down here, Meredith could be burning down the Circle..."

Everyone else just glanced at each other and Hawke reassuringly took his hand. There was something really bothering him and she couldn't be certain but she thought it might have something to to with Justice and the Wardens. He was not himself. She squeezed his hand and then let it go to read over a few papers on a nearby desk.

_You will find Malcolm Hawke's heir in Hightown. By the grand stairs to the Keep. The home will be well defended, but do not spill Hawke's blood. Use the poison if capture proves difficult. If you have to kill anyone else, do it quietly._

_And don't go near the young dwarf. He sees things._

_-In the name of the Master, Corypheus. May he see sunlight again._

More on topic than he had been since they arrived, Anders said, "I've never heard of dwarves using blood magic. But they're obviously after you for something. I'm guessing Corypheus is some kind of demon?"

She sighed and slapped the pamphlet back down on the table. "I guess we only get that answer from Corypheus.

They pushed forward, overhearing a disturbing conversation from a few other dwarves. "If I get the Hawke's blood, Rhatigan says I can go into the tunnels and drink of the Master."

Hawke did not even want to hear any more. She rounded the corner and unleashed a fireball into their midst, cutting off the conversation. When the group was dead, they kept pushing further in, Varric recognizing the soothing effect his banter was having on Hawke and continuing. "You, elf, are one lucky son-of-a-bitch."

"Is this about the diamondback game? Again?" Fenris asked smoothly.

"I've never seen anyone bluff like that in my life. I was sure you had a hand full of nothing," Varric chuckled.

"So was I," Fenris admitted. "You were the one who pointed out I had four serpents."

"See? Luckiest bastard I've ever seen," Varric grumbled halfheartedly.

Hawke shook her head in amusement as she shuffled through papers as she had been, hunting for clues. When she opened a chest that had a small orb inside, she felt a brief caress of mana. When she picked it up, it was warm to the touch and Anders grunted, rubbing his forehead. "Does anyone else hear drumming?" he mumbled.

There was a letter in the chest as well.

_The Wardens did not guard the key with care. It was left in a repository, with objects of little worth. Trinkets. Dusty Grey Warden trophies. Not even a guard posted. Fools. If only they knew what they had, and had lost._

_It will not wake at my touch; it sleeps and it's power remains within. The Great One says it requires Malcolm Hawke's blood to awaken it. Only then can it's powers set him free._

_I will find the heir to the blood and the Great One will reward me. Yes. Let it be soon._

Anders had moved up beside her to read the letter as well. "A key, tuned to your father's blood. Sounds like a ritual element for blood magic." His hand landed softly over the scar on her bicep and ran over it lightly. "Be careful, Hawke." She accepted his concern with a smile, unsure if he even remembered talking about the drumming when she had picked up the orb. He seemed to snap back to himself as they forged deeper into the fire-lit Carta headquarters. Hawke could not shake his strange behavior though, even as he joked with Varric. "More Deep Roads. Why did we agree to do this again?"

"Because I love trouble, and you think Hawke is cute. That wasn't a serious question, was it, Blondie?" Varric said with a chuckle.

"She is pretty cute," Anders agreed with a smirk, reaching out to squeeze her rear as he walked beside her, the others ahead of them.

She pursed her lips and backhanded his chest with a snort. She was good at pretending nothing was wrong. It had been her default for her entire life. How easily she slipped back into it was astonishing. He had been there for her for two years and now his support was crumbling, as much as he didn't realize it. She was worried, but her mask was slipping around her like a hug from an old friend. Her general tone for the remainder of their time there was mild annoyance mixed with heaped on sarcasm that covered her true feelings.

As they descended further in, she was beginning to think that the Carta had run out of dwarves, even though they had yet to meet the famous Rhatigan. That was up until she began to hear monotone chanting from just around a corner. She sighed and pushed forward. "The Hawke's blood! The Master will rise. He will be free!"

"Gerav?" Varric gasped as he laid eyes on the speaker.

"Varric? N-no one told me you would be part of this. We were just going after the Hawke..." the dwarf said, more lucidly that she thought was possible with the look in his eyes.

"Why _have_ the Carta been attacking me?" she asked, hoping to get a better answer than she had been getting.

"I c-can't say. The Master must be free..." he stumbled.

Varric approached him with a brow quirked. "Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this... I mean gutting the occassional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game. But what are you all even doing here? Worshipping demons?"

"We drink the Darkspawn blood. He calls us..." the dwarf admitted. That explained the glassy look in his eyes. Carver had gotten it in the end, as had Wesley.

"Why would you do that? Won't you just die?" she asked in amazement that anyone would willingly drink Darkspawn blood.

"It's the only way... to hear the music." Gerav said desperately.

"Oh, come on, you nug-licker! Snap out of it. There's no gold in hallucinating," Varric shouted.

Hawke sighed. "Manners, Varric! Introduce me to your lunatic friend."

Varric glanced up at her then said as sarcastically polite as she had. "Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta. Gerav, this is Hawke, the one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever. But if you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you she's no virgin."

"The Master is calling. He needs the blood," Gerav insisted, throwing his hands up and ignoring Varric's jab at her.

"Gerav... buddy... This isn't like you," Varric continued to try to talk him down. Hawke could tell that they had been good friends. He pulled Bianca from his back and knocked a bolt, the click clack resounding in the hollow underground room. "Look. I've still got Bianca, never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"

"Varric?" Hawke said sympathetically. "You want to spare this bastard?"

"Not if he's after you, Hawke," Varric insisted, lowering and aiming Bianca. "Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye." When he fired, Gerav ducked down, a smoke pellet bursting against the ground so he could escape the bolt. Several more dwarves flooded into the room. "Reinforcements! You bastard!" Hawke was touched by Varric's loyalty. They had been friends for years, but sometimes he could be hard to read. It was difficult to see the real Varric behind the painted stories he would tell. They made short work of the dwarves and Varric moved to kneel beside his old friend. "You poor stupid bastard..." he sighed as he closed Gerav's eyes. "I used to do business with the Carta, back in the day. Gerav was a nutcase then, too, but in a good way. He was trying to design a new type of repeating crossbow. Bianca was the only one that ever worked." He stood and brushed off his hands, hanging his head. "I can't believe he ended up like that."

She laid a hand on his shoulder in sympathy and he gave her a half smile before they continued onward. They needed to root out all of these dwarves before they had an army of ghouls after them. They didn't have to go far before they finally met the leader and his pet Bronto. He was just as tainted as the others, but his ramblings were mildly more intelligible. "Hawke, they told me you were going to be trouble. I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or the other."

"What does this have to do with my father?" she demanded.

"The Master wants you. I don't ask why," he said with a glare.

She sneered. "Corypheus wants some blood? Sure! Let me just open a vein... How about a kidney, too?"

"Corypheus, we have done as you command. Your sacrifice is here. You will see the surface once more!" Rhatigan shouted to the heavens before unleashing his Bronto on them along with a cluster of more crazed dwarves. The thick iron barred gate slammed closed behind them.

All of her companions took hits in the fight, bleeding and sweating as the massive Bronto charged back and forth through the room. She watched Anders get pinned near a rear wall, a volley of traps jutting up in front of him. Across the room, the Bronto dug in its heels and marked him. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw no escape for him. She slammed her staff head into the dwarf she was engaged with, jumped over another set of traps at her feet and threw herself in front of the charging horn of the Bronto. "No!" Anders shouted in terror just before she jammed her staff into the ground in front of her and the fear driven barrier sprung up thick before her. She felt it to her bones as the heavy animal collided with the barrier. It pushed her back, the impact cracking the spell. She gritted her teeth and dug in her own heels, pushing back. She was no match for the two ton creature and it's momentum, until Anders' palm fell on her shoulder and his mana swirled around her to strengthen the barrier. "Hold on, love." She took in a breath and centered her power, focusing on keeping the thrashing creature away from them both until Fenris could get close enough to kill it. She watched Varric clearing the elf a path, but the sheer number of traps and dwarves was a massive hindrance. Finally, he ghosted into his wraith form and flitted across the field, slipping through everything in his way. He slashed upwards, his sword beneath the Bronto's chin. He cleaved through it's thick hide and even thicker neck, removing it's head in one swing. The blood pooled around Hawke's feet as she dropped the barrier and her shoulders slumped. Her reserves were dangerously low after that stunt. Anders' hand fell away and he cast her a concerned glance before moving back into the fight and helping Varric and Fenris to finish off the dwarves while she took a breather to try and regain some of her mana.

She noticed Rhatigan's body to her right and the rest of the threats were being quickly neutralized now that they weren't dodging an angry Bronto. She shuffled over to the dwarf, something glowing beneath him. She frowned and crouched, dragging his body over to his back. In his hand, he clutched a strange looking key. "What the...?" Something about it called to her and she was mesmerized, reaching for it without a second thought. When her fingers made contact, the magic in the key burst to life and it grew, the cloaking spell on it shattering and throwing it to full size in her hands. She held it in her palms, still on her knees as the key became a large, ugly looking staff. The wood of it's core hummed with cracks of blue and she got the sensation that it was reaching into her, fingers grasping for her blood and her magic. She gritted her teeth at the sticky sensation and then cried out as her nerves lit on fire and a burst of magic sucked her breath from her. "What is this?" she gasped, as the others gathered around her. "I can feel it.. inside me."

As the magic slowly dimmed and both the staff and her skin calmed, she panted, looking over the staff. Anders choked and said, "That weapon draws on your blood, Hawke. There are dangerous magics here."

The truth rang inside her head like a bell and she swallowed as her racing heart slowed. "This is going to take me to Corypheus." She noted more dwarves fleeing further into the structure and as the others watched her with concerned looks on their faces, she twirled the ugly staff and gave chase.

The staff head was unbalanced with a heavy red crystal in the middle of a metal setting. She nearly dropped it three times as she fought, using the staff feeling in her bones like the right thing to do, the whispering from the thing making her completely forget her usual weapon. When the wooden Carta buildings gave way to proper dwarven carved Deep Roads, Hawke continued to follow, heedless of the obvious trap until it sprung on them. A magical barrier flew up between them and freedom. "Those sons of bitches," Varric grumbled as they stopped to investigate, Anders grabbing hold of Hawke. "The whole blasted thing's sealed over."

Hawke sighed, cursing her own stupidity and shaking off the magic that had her focused on following and killing the dwarves. It had led her and her friends into a trap. Anders tried to dispel the barrier to no avail and she grunted. "I guess we should have seen that coming."

They needed to find another way out. She moved away from the barrier and took in her surroundings. The path they had followed had spilled them in the Deep Roads, Anders grunted painfully and said. "There are Darkspawn here. A lot of them."

Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was a Warden, able to sense Darkspawn. She took his hand in sympathy. "I know you hate it down here."

Across the way from their location, the tower stood, looming high above them as well as deep below. It was a marvel of construction that must have taken decades to build. She could see the place crawling with darkspawn beneath the Grey Warden heraldries that flapped in the tiny amount of air that was making its way down this far from the surface to swirl through the stifling environment. "And they wonder why I prefer the surface," Varric grumbled from her other side.

The dwarves they had been chasing had disappeared and Hawke started towards the direction they had gone in. Fenris addressed Anders which made her cock her head to listen to the brief conversation. "You speak of disliking the Deep Roads a great deal. Why?"

"Besides the obvious, you mean?" Anders said curtly.

"It's a dangerous place, but less so for a Grey Warden," Fenris pointed out with curiosity.

Anders sighed. "Darkspawn this, Darkspawn that. Taint taint taint taint taint. After a while, you just get so tired of it, you know?" He was at least attempting to make light of their situation and she smirked and cringed as he repeated taint in a sing song tone.

Fenris balked and cringed as well. "I... do now."

Hawke chuckled softly, trying to ignore the foul magic that was permeating the area. There were demons nearby. She could sense them. As she tried to staunch the twisting in her gut, she walked ahead, crossing through a doorway. A hulking genlock caught her by surprise, seeing her as soon as she entered and abandoning the meal of dwarf that it was enjoying to growl and charge her. She backpedaled into Anders and his barrier swirled up around them all as his hands landed on her arms to steady her. A couple more darkspawn joined the fray and Hawke began to panic. She had lost Carver and Bethany to these creatures. She refused to let this trip deprive her of more of her friends. Anders was safe from the Blight sickness, but Fenris and Varric both needed to be extremely careful. When they had cut down the genlocks, Hawke was about to open her own mouth and remind them of the closed mouth policy in the Deep Roads when a hum of magic caught her attention. Ahead of them there stood a demon, trapped behind a powerful binding spell. As she focused on the spell, she noticed that it extended beyond the exit from the room and they would need to break it to get through. "Do you feel that?" she asked absently, her eyes looking for the bundles of magic that needed dispelling.

"Careful," Anders warned as he readied himself to fight the demon. Fenris and Varric followed his lead as she moved to the two large Griffon shields on the walls. She passed her fingers through the glowing red orbs of magic embedded in each shield and they flicked across the room to embed in the binding in front of the demon. She approached the binding to pass through the final orb and the binding dissipated, leaving her face to face with the demon.

It was a low level demon and it easily fell to them, but as she felt the trickle of magic leaving the area, a great booming voice echoed through the hall. A shimmering blue aura hovered near the binding. '...be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be. I can do nothing about the Wardens' use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world..."

The aura shifted away and disappeared, leaving a sour taste in the back of Hawke's throat that turned her stomach out of nerves rather than disgust. "That voice seems... oddly familiar."

As they moved on, Anders could sense her discomfort with the strange staff and the growing nausea so he spoke up. "One good thing about being trapped in an ancient underground prison... not a lot of templars."

She played along, easing his own discomfort by allowing him to take her mind off the nagging familiarity of the voice. "You should set up shop. It's no worse than your current digs."

"Good point!" he said in mock excitement. "I could be quite comfortable here, actually. Clean the taint off the floor, maybe hang a few pictures... It might even be a step up from Darktown."

"A new base of operations for Kirkwall's mage underground," she suggested.

"It's got potential..." he mused with a chuckle, wrapping an arm around her waist. Varric snorted and Fenris rolled his eyes as they continued to search for a way out.

As they searched, they were set upon by more and more Darkspawn and fewer and fewer dwarves. It seemed as if Anders' episodes were getting worse as well, the closer they got to the tower. Hawke stumbled upon a note in a small makeshift camp by a Warden that was fairly recently written.

_All we hear is that this is one of the great Grey Warden secrets. 'It must be protected at all costs'. As usual, we're most concerned with deceiving our own people. But why hide that the Deep Roads were shaped not only by dwarves, but also by us?_

_I found records dating back to 1004 TE, the wake of the First Blight. Early Wardens discovered that some Darkspawn could think and speak and commanded portions of the Horde even after the Archdemon's death. A few could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter Magister, and the Wardens greatly feared them._

_It was here, in the Vinmark Montains, that Warden Sashamiri set her trap to capture and study the greatest of these creatures, the one whom they called Corypheus._

At least the note gave her a bit of insight into what Corypheus was. So he was no demon at all, but an ancient Darkspawn. Anders frowned over her shoulder as he read, obviously giving a great deal of thought to something, even as distracted as he looked. When she took his hand and squeezed it, he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if it was hurting him and then set his honey eyes on her briefly before confessing gently. "When I left the Wardens, I swore I'd never spend another minute in the Deep Roads."

Fenris piped up, interrupting. " 'Left' sounds like it was a mutual arrangement."

Anders set a sneer on him and Hawke rolled her eyes before moving away from them to continue forward. "Fine, I ran away. What's it to you?"

Fenris hummed. "Ran away from the Circle, ran away from the Wardens... it sounds like a habit."

Anders countered with his own list. "Running away from your family, straight to Danarius. Running away from Danarius, straight to Hawke. Maybe we're more alike than you think."

Varric chuckled and said, "I've always said so."

Hawke stopped them short with a hand up as she noticed a figure crouched behind a crumbled pillar ahead. When the figure noticed them, it shot up and hurried as quickly toward her as his bent and twisted form would allow. His hair and beard were balding in patches and the smell of taint was all over him. He was dressed in shabby and beaten down heavy Warden armor. His eyes were glassy and discolored as they looked at her in shock. "The key! Did they find it? The dwarves? I heard them... looking... digging... How do you bring the key here?" His voice sounded rough and unused to speech.

"You mean this?" Hawke asked, holding the staff before her. "How is this a key?"

"Magic, old magic, it is. Magic from the blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them," he rasped.

"I came in here to find Corypheus. Do you know where... or what... he is?" she wondered. He had obviously been here quite some time.

"Do not say his name!" the ghoul gasped. "He will hear you! Do not wake him. Not when you hold the key!"

"Let me guess," Hawke sighed as the crouched man hovered near her, continuously reaching out and pulling back as if having an inner struggle. "You want to drink my blood too?"

"Blood?" he wondered. "The blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke?" he inhaled, putting him closer to her before he drew back and wrung his hands together. "Yes. I smell magic on you. But you hold the key! The key to his death... Yes, I can show you out, yes."

He nodded vigorously as she took a step back from him. He was unlike any ghoul she had ever encountered. His ability to speak was a feat on it's own. "Who are you? What's wrong with you?"

"You ask me that? I am the one who belongs here, not you. You are no Darkspawn," he snapped defensively.

"He's in Grey Warden armor," Anders pointed out. "Maybe he used to be one?"

The man nodded. "You hear it, no? Hear it calling? I smell it in you," he growled, his attention drawn to Anders."I know the way out. Follow me. Down and in. Down and in."

Hawke snorted. "Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people..."

"Never stopped you before," Fenris commented as his eyes flicked to Anders.

"Excuse me?" Anders barked, a flash of mana rippling from him.

"Never mind," Fenris sighed, shaking his head.

"Not crazy, no. Trust me. I know the prison's secrets..." the Warden twitched and fidgeted as he spoke, but he was making a bit of sense. "The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key. You must use it, yes. On the seals. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke." She turned to pace briefly as she realized that he was telling her to use blood magic to escape. She had hated her previous brush with it. This would likely be no better. "Not back. Not up. Only way out is down and through the heart. Down... Down in the depths..." With that, he ran off and disappeared into the cracked and broken darkness around the tower.

"Well, that made everything much clearer," Anders grumbled.

Hawke found another note at another camp along the path and read it quickly to see if there was anymore insight.

_The Grey Wardens' prison in the Vinmark Mountains is believed to have been constructed more than a thousand years ago. The original method of construction has been lost to history, but the Warden-Commanders of the Free Marches have maintained the prison's secret through the centuries._

_The prison is concealed in a great rift in the Vinmark Mountains, far from any easily-traveled mountain passes. The Wardens themselves have spread rumors of banditry and beasts to prevent explorers from approaching. The prison consists of a central tower built into the rift with magically-maintained bridges allowing access at different levels. Each level is sealed by a blood magic ritual in which a mage of untainted blood uses his own life essence to create a magical barrier that is permeable from the outside yet impenetrable from within. This one-way access has caused other Darkspawn... and perhaps unwary travelers... to be caught within the prison's confines. Those who disappear inside never re-emerge._

"How cheery," Hawke grumbled before leaving the note and starting ahead again.

"I've tried to forget about this side of myself," Anders said from her side, although his words were not spoken privately, his volume loud enough for the others to be privy. She wasn't certain it was intentional. "Justice is... so strong, sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant. But seeing that poor bastard brings it all back. The Darkspawn taint, the call of the Archdemon... It's inside me, as much a part of me as Justice."

"Ooh, baby, tell me more..." she said, attempting to draw the melancholy from him. She didn't know what it was to be a Warden. They were so secretive, even he had never told her anything about them. She had just been thinking the same thing not an hour ago, that it was easy to forget he was a Warden with everything else in their lives. She didn't care. He was still hers and she loved him no matter what.

He sighed and cringed. "You should find someone else, love. You don't want all the ugliness I'm going to bring into your life."

His attempt to push her away only made her love him even more that he cared enough to want to protect her from the bad things that came with being with him. They had spent three years working through this kind of talk. She wouldn't let him push her away. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Nobody's perfect."

"I've got to hand it to you, Blondie. You make that work every time..." Varric said with a bemused grin that told Hawke she was going to be reading about this in one of his stories.

They rounded a corner that circled the central spire of the tower and Hawke noticed a dais in the middle of the room. Green magical energy surrounded the space, where four urns were set at equal intervals around the glyph on the ground. Hawke could feel different types of magic resonating inside the urns. As she approached, the hair on her arms and neck stood at attention, the air charged. The second she stepped onto the dais, the magic expanded and burst with an audible pop. A demon manifested before her and she backpedaled to get away from the hulking figure. It was shaped like a demon of Pride, but instead of electricity coursing against its skin and giving it a purple hue, it was as fiery as a rage demon. Hawke lashed out with the key, channeling her mana through the staff as it fought to draw on her blood instead. She was looking forward to snapping the thing in two once they were free. They whittled away at the beast, each of them taking turns drawing it's attention for the others to attack. When it finally fell under Fenris' blade, the Warden reappeared from the shadows looking quite pleased.

"Let me guess," Hawke said rubbing her hands together as they hummed with unspent blood magic. "The first seal?"

"Two thousand years," he marveled, limping toward the dais. "The magic holds. Never broken. Give it the key. Let it take the magic back to itself. Absorb it, all who came before..."

He backed away and Hawke stepped back up to the dais. The magic drew her in and she approached the urn that housed the lightning magic. Holding the key out before her, she dropped her guard and the urn offered up the power it held. The key drank up the magic like a man lost in the desert. The rest of the urns went dormant and the lightning trickled up her arm from the staff, prickling over her skin and making her shudder and the tiny bolts arched along, recognizing the familiar pull of her most powerful spells.

"The blood works. It is good," the Warden said greedily.

"All this talk about my blood is a little creepy," Hawke admitted. "Are you at least planning to tell me your name?"

"Name..." he said as if the word were foreign. "So long since I've said my name. La... Larius! I was Larius!" He shook his head and frowned as he paced. "There... was a title, too. Commander... Commander of the Grey."

"He was a Warden," Anders confirmed with a sigh. "Poor wretch must have come down here on his Calling..."

"Yes! The Calling... the songs get louder. Only death stops them. I am dead. But I never died," Larius agreed.

Hawke felt her heart flutter and she spun to glance at Anders whose expression was stricken as he saw the concern in her eyes. "Anders? What are you talking about?"

He cringed and took her hand. "Wardens aren't immune to the taint forever. In time, we start to hear voices. The same ones Darkspawn hear. That's when they send you into the Deep Roads to die."

His confession threw her. She knew Wardens made sacrifices, but she wondered how long they had. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, even as she knew her mask slipped just a little bit. She turned back to Larius and asked, "I've opened the seal. Will the prison release me?"

"There are more. Follow them in. All the way to the heart. Many locks. Only one key." Suddenly, he jerked to the side and Anders' hand twitched in hers, his head cocking to the side. "C-Corypheus calls! In the Darkness! What waits there?" He ran off again and Hawke looked questioningly at Anders.

His smile was meant to reassure her, but his grip tightened in hers as he visibly fought the urge to strain his ears to listen. What was he hearing? She was concerned. He had been struggling since they'd arrived. They wouldn't be stuck down here if she had been more cautious. She wanted to kick herself. They moved forward and didn't make it far before Anders grumbled. "I'm not listening. I'm _not_ listening."

As she grabbed his hand again to ground him, Varric offered his insight. "Come on, Blondie. You're strong enough to overcome this."

Hawke wasn't so certain at this point. She had never seen Anders so distressed. Her concerns for him were temporarily pushed to the back of her mind as they were set upon by more roving Darkspawn before descending to the next floor to hunt for the next seal. At the bottom of the stairs, they found another of the trapped demons, her magic breaking the binding so they could kill the shade. The voice repeated itself and a sudden coldness descended upon her as he uttered a phrase so familiar she could hear him saying it as if he were standing right in front of her. "Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be. I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."

She shuddered, lifting her palm to glance at the hum of magic as it pooled in her hand before dissipating. "I think father used to say that. I remember..." She balled her fist and swallowed the emotion that was rising in her throat. In spite of his own current distraction, Anders rubbed a hand up and down her spine comfortingly. How had her father gotten mixed up with the Wardens?

More questions and the desire to get Anders the hell away from this place pushed her to move forward. The Darkspawn were thicker, the deeper they went and her concerns mounted as she kept close watch on Varric and Fenris. Another binding followed close behind and again the voice spoke. She whimpered as he explained to whomever might be listening. "Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be. I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We'll be together. I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one. May they never learn what I've done here."

She gaped. " 'The baby?' He... he's talking about me. All those things he did, he did for us, for his family."

Anders reached out again, his arms pulling her against him. "It must be overwhelming to hear your father's voice again. How are you feeling?"

She fell into his embrace, sorting through the jumble of emotion as it surged through her. She chuckled softly, discreetly wiping tears on his pauldrons. "Father always liked popping out of nowhere to startle us children. It would make us scream with laughter. It's nice to know that hasn't changed."

"It seems your blood is special, Hawke. Why am I not surprised?" Fenris said with a brief smirk as Anders released her and they pressed forward.

Anders' distraction seemed to be getting worse and worse. Before they made it to the next key, he shouted loudly, startling her. "No! Get out of my head!"

Fenris grabbed her arm and growled. "He'll kill us all if he allows this insanity to take him!"

She pulled away from his grip, biting her lip and realizing that Anders had not even heard Fenris. He was in his own bubble of crazy at the moment. She sighed, nodding her head and praying that it wouldn't come to that. "Please, Fenris. If he loses it, aim to incapacitate, _not_ kill."

His expression told her he would like nothing more than an excuse to lob Anders' head off, but he met her eyes with sympathy as she pleaded with him. "As you wish." They came upon an overhang that allowed them to see across the chasm before them. "How deep does this hole go?" Fenris snarled.

She simply shrugged and flicked her eyes to Anders who seemed to have come back to himself for the moment. She fell in beside him to keep an eye on him and then spotted Larius on the path ahead. She took in the awful look of him and tried to shove the image of Anders slowly succumbing to the taint out of her mind as it flashed by unbidden. "He is waking," Larius said as they approached. "The magic grows lax. He feels us walk where no step goes."

"Are you talking about Corypheus?" she asked.

Larius nodded. "He calls. Like an Old God. He mimics their cry."

"Can the rest of you hear him? I figured it was just me," Anders asked desperately.

"He calls them to free him. The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood," Larius explained.

"If Corypheus isn't an Old God, what is he? Human, demon, Darkspawn?" she asked, practically begging for answers.

"More than Darkspawn. More than human. He thinks. He talks. He pierces the Veil."

Anders grunted. "An awakened Darkspawn, an emissary. When I was with the Wardens in Amaranthine, we met an emissary like that. Powerful, persuasive. I didn't realize there were others."

"He wants what was once his," Larius said.

"How could this Corypheus be sending people after me if he's asleep?" she wondered.

"He can call, dream, but not know." The explanations were getting more cryptic and Hawke was developing a headache. "When the seals are gone, he will wake. And he must die."

Another thing was nagging at the back of her mind. "Why are you down here? How have you survived?"

"The Calling. The music. It is our death."

Anders nodded slowly. "The Wardens say once the Corruption goes far enough, the Darkspawn can't sense you anymore." He glanced at her with sadness, hanging his head. "They'd think he's one of them. He'd be in no danger on that front."

"Yes," Larius said simply. "I lived, but I died. The Corruption feeds me. So many years in darkness..."

"When you run off, where do you go?" she wondered, having only seen the one path that they had been following. He was getting around much faster than them.

"I know the darkness before the seals. Here, the voice is too strong." He turned and began to hobble off again. "I cannot stay!"

She sighed and watched him disappear again. "That is really getting old," she mumbled.

They soon found themselves out of the structure and mucking through a squishy bog like area complete with a thick fog that swirled around their feet as they walked. Anders grumbled. "Ugh. This is much... wetter... than I remember the Deep Roads."

Hawke started to notice signs of dwarven activity, although it was ancient. Varric paused as they passed a corpse and spoke for the first time since he had tried to talk Anders from the brink. She was so used to his regular banter and complaining that without it she nearly forgot him. "That looks like Legion of the Dead armor. It's an Orzammar thing. No matter your crime, if you join the Legion and vow to die fighting Darkspawn, your name is cleared."

Anders chuckled. "I had a friend from the Legion once, a girl named Sigrun. Not nearly as dour as you'd expect."

Hawke could see the trail that would lead them to the next tower and back upwards through the seals. She hoped. She started through the mushy terrain and cringed at every clinging bit of mud that tried to grab at her feet and hold them in place. Aside from the occasional deep stalker and some more Darkspawn, the stroll was quiet. That was until Anders began to fall behind. He shouted again, his features twisted in anger. "Stop! Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!"

Fenris grumbled. "The abomination's hearing voices. How unexpected."

Varric chuffed and said, "Hang in there, Blondie. We're going to get you out of this."

She paused to glance over her shoulder at him just as he doubled over and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and then grabbed his temples. He cried out in pain and she moved to take a step toward him, but Fenris gripped her arm tightly. "What's wrong?" she begged as he thrashed.

"I can't...the voices... W-Wardens... the Joining... I have too much taint in my blood. I can't shut him out...." he looked up at her, his eyes pleading. "Help me, love..." he winced again and gritted his teeth. "I will not..." She felt the drastic pull on the veil around them as Justice reared his ugly face, splitting Anders' skin, the blue spirit energy cracking through. When he stood from his crouch, her lover was gone. Justice growled as mage fire erupted around him. "... be controlled!" he roared.

"I can't take you anywhere!" Hawke growled angrily right back at the spirit. The last time they had clashed, the spirit had tried to kill her. From the sneer on Anders' face, he was ready to try again.

Justice pulled Anders' staff and crackling electricity surged through it. He slammed the butt on the ground and two shades appeared at his back. Fenris let go of her arm and pulled his sword. Hawke singled out Justice, throwing a stone fist for his gut and knocking him back so the shades were in front of him. It was deliberate, so Fenris would be able to take them out without hurting Anders. Then she skirted the shades as Fenris engaged them, her eyes drawing a glyph on the ground beneath Justice and raising the crushing prison. She only siphoned half the will she would normally put into the spell so she could approach and contain him without actually crushing him. "Be careful, Hawke!" Varric warned.

She poured more mana inside the prison and cast a mana drain, siphoning Anders' mana so Justice couldn't use it. She gasped at the level of power he held in his core. Hers was minuscule compared to that. Had he always had all of that power, or was it directly related to Justice? She took in all that she could and then poured the rest into her staff. The prison dropped and Justice realized what she had done. With a growl of rage, he rushed for her, gripping Ander's staff like a sword and swinging it for her head. She ducked the swing and used her own staff to jab into his chest, the blow backed by physical magic. She was trying her hardest not to hurt Anders too much. Just enough to make Justice rush off and lick his wounds. He stumbled back with the force of her blow and she swung the staff around again, connecting with his side. She cringed as she heard the crack of his ribs and he fell to the ground, landing hard on his back, the air whooshing from his lungs with the impact. She felt Justice defeated as he began to slip back inside, and Anders rolled gingerly to his side. She rushed to him, steadying hands on his shoulders after she dropped to her knees next to him. The cracks along his skin faded and he reached around himself to grip his aching side. He cupped his face as he hissed and attempted to sit up. "I'm so sorry," she apologized.

He shook his head, allowing her to inch closer and touch her hand to his chest and return some of his magic so he could heal himself. "Thank you, love." She helped him to his feet and he leaned on her only briefly before the healing took effect. "I... I guess they're right. You never can leave the Wardens. I hope I can hold against him. Against them both..."

"You had better," Fenris threatened.

"Would distracting you with a kiss help?" she asked jokingly, trying to cover up her concern. At his somber look, she pouted. "No?"

"Come on, I can see the next seal," Varric grumbled.

The next seal was guarded by another bound Pride demon that continuously made clones of itself, making it impossible to focus on killing it. After chasing around it's copies for nearly ten minutes, they were finally able to drop it and Hawke let the staff pull the mana back into itself again, opening the way forward. As they crossed the path toward the stairs that would lead them up into the main tower, the ground rumbled beneath them. As Hawke stumbled, Larius appeared again. "He feels the seals weaken. He knows you are close. You must be ready..." Then he jerked his head around like a cat that heard something interesting. "What's that? Who? No... no. They're here!"

Hawke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who is it this time? Puddles the Turtle? The Holy Cheesewheel of Andraste?"

"The Wardens," he corrected. "They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him the light. Stop them. You must stop them." He limped away and disappeared around the base of the tower just as a group of four people came around the other side. They were all dressed in similar Warden armor. From the look of the armor, two were rogues, one a warrior and the leader, a mage.

The mage was distracted as she spoke to the warrior. "Something's happening. The prison's breaking down. But it's stood up to tunneling before. What can..." Then she noticed Hawke and her people and gasped. "You! You have the key! And you've come through the seals. But how? Champion? Are you the one? The same Hawke, child of Malcolm? The Carta said they were close. You must be her. I am Janeka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens."

"Seems everyone's interested in your father," Varric mumbled.

"Then you don't know?" Janeka said with a frown. "Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago."

Hawke took the key in her hand and said, "Let me guess, it had something to do with this fancy thing?"

"The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful Darkspawn we've ever encountered. But even the best magic fades. The Wardens need to reinforce the seals. This requires the blood of a mage untainted by... Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father."

"My father was a blood mage?" Hawke gasped, her eyes widening.

"To avert the Blights, forbidden magics are sometimes necessary. He did not bind the demons, if that is your concern. That was done in another era, before the Chantry's laws," Janeka explained with an acceptance that Hawke was uncomfortable with.

She sighed. "Why do my family stories never involve embarrassing vacations in Antiva?"

"We need your help Hawke," Janeka said, ignoring her quip. "I have done extensive research on this Darkspawn and I believe the original Wardens were wrong. He isn't a threat to humanity... he's our greatest opportunity. A Darkspawn who can talk, feel, reason..."

She was interrupted as Larius reappeared from the shadows, outraged. "Corypheus cares nothing for Blights. He used you!"

The warrior gaped. "The Warden-Commander!"

"Don't listen to this... creature. He's half Darkspawn himself," Janeka growled. "I know how to harness Corypheus, use his magic to end the Blights."

"No!" Larius insisted. "The Wardens knew. Corypheus is too powerflul."

"Don't do it Hawke," Anders begged. "The Warden-Commander made a deal with one of these. We still don't know the consequences."

Varric apparently disagreed. "Worth the risk. If he doesn't help, it's one more big Darkspawn to stick a bolt in. No big deal."

"A Darkspawn and a mage. Just what the world needs," Fenris grumbled.

"Corypheus calls her, and she listens. She brought him the Carta, sent them for you!" Larius accused.

"You must help us!" Janeka countered angrily.

Hawke realized that everyone there was looking at her to make the right decision. When she was backed into a corner, she always did the same thing. Asked questions. "Why would this Darkspawn want to end the Blights?"

Janeka jumped on the opportunity to plead her case. "He is no mindless monster. This search for the Old Gods comes at a terrible cost to his people."

"This sounds very familiar," Anders sighed.

"He tricked you!" Larius said desperately to Janeka. "These are not your thoughts, they are his Calling."

"How many of them died in Ferelden alone? And that was the least of the Blights," Janeka countered.

"How could you trust any deal this Darkspawn makes with you?" Hawke asked her curtly.

"Do not think me foolish, Hawke. I am making no deal. I have a spell which can control Corypheus, bind him to my will." Hawke hated the sound of that. "He will be a new, important weapon in the war on the Blights. No more, no less."

"Are you talking about using Blood Magic?" Hawke growled.

"Everything that was done to him was through the power of blood. The Wardens imprisoned Corypheus before the Chantry banned such magic. It is the only way to hold him," Janeka said nonchalantly.

"A convenient excuse," Fenris sneered.

Hawke nodded her agreement. "Corypheus may be as great a threat as the next Blight. We can't risk freeing him."

Janeka's lip curled back. "We'll find a way to do this with or without you, Hawke. This prison _will_ be broken. The Blights will end. Come!" She backed up as she called to her companions. They rushed away and Janeka pulled her staff to throw a fireball at Hawke's feet before she could give chase. Angry, Hawke pushed her own magic outwards, blowing out the flames, but Janeka was already gone.

"With me! We will beat them to the seal!" Larius called, already limping toward one of his shortcuts. Hawke and the others followed. When they made their way inside the tower, Larius stopped them and pointed to an urn that was similar in shape to the ones that circled the seals. This one looked to be dormant. "This... this was part of the prison's defenses from centuries ago. Old wards... unstable, dangerous. The Wardens had them neutralized. Bringing them back to life will stall Janeka."

Hawke reached out tentatively to touch her palm to the urn. The metal was cold to her touch and she siphoned a bit of mana into it. It flared to life with a pop and her nerves hummed. She could feel the entire nexus of wards around the tower, guiding her to which ones would open her a path. It was powerful magic. "If Larius is right about Corypheus, we're going to have to hurry," Anders said, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently urge her forward. She would have killed to be able to wipe the pain from his face. He was struggling and it needed to stop. She reached up and squeezed his hand before moving out from under it. No matter what, Corypheus would die.

When they entered the first large chamber at the base of the tower, the entire room was filled with pillars housing dozens of the urns. "Do not touch anything!" Larius warned vehemently. The old defenses are active again. Very unpredictable, very dangerous."

From the other side of the room, a group of dwarves ran in and the first one said," There! That's the one Janeka wants dead!"

"You do Janeka's bidding?" Hawke crossed her arms and glared.

"Janeka shared knowledge of Corypheus with the Carta. When she releases the Master, we will be rewarded," the speaker growled.

Hawke sighed. "How many of you are there? I thought I dealt with you already..."

The speaker grinned deviously and glanced around at the urns. "We may die here, but we will take you with us."

"No! Don't!" Larius shouted as the dwarf bolted for the nearest pillar and spun the closest set of urns. A barrier sprung up behind the Carta, blocking them in the room. Hawke grimaced and drew her weapon.

"To arms, and pray that Corypheus honors our sacrifice!" Apparently they were no longer trying to keep her alive or preserve her blood. The dwarves spread out around the room and attacked. Larius pulled out his rusty greatsword, lending a hand as best he could to fend off the attack. Hawke was careful where she slung her magic, not to make the situation worse. When the crazed dwarves fell, Hawke moved to study the barriers.

"Trapped," Larius spat. "Carta fools, always where they don't belong. This shouldn't have happened.

" 'Don't touch anything' is usually an invitation to touch everything. Didn't you know?" she asked him over her shoulder as she recognized a stream of magic connecting every urn that faced each other the stream was present from two corners of the room. She frowned and Larius paced.

"Always a punishment for playing with things you don't understand." he rubbed his patchy balding head and then glanced around. "There is a way out. Deep down, a small memory, a fading thought... I've been here before. Yes, yes. Think. There must be a way. I was here once before, a long time ago. The magic... the magic flows in streams. They must be joined for the way to open. Yes... that's it," he said victoriously.

Hawke moved to her right where the magic was flowing from the corner. It stopped three pillars away and she glanced around to figure out which one she needed to turn to reconnect it with the opposite corner. Choosing a pillar, she reached up with the end of the key and latched it on the iron foundation of the two urns on the pillar. With a tug, the urns spun, connecting the stream to the pillar. The second urn on that pillar was now facing the center of the room, so she walked across to the one opposite and noted where the rest of the magic was streaming from. Twisting two more of the pillars connected the stream and she felt the barriers fall.

"That's it! It worked!" Larius celebrated. "Quickly now. We've a ways to go yet!" He hurried forward and kept stopping to hustle Hawke and the others forward as she couldn't help craning her neck to take in the impressive structure. He was shaking his head and finally said, "The Hawke was fascinated by the old construction. Always stopping to examine the carvings. A learned man." It made her smile that she had so easily reminded Larius of her father.

She pushed ahead, guiding them to the urns as her part in rekindling the magic tugged at her. Unfortunately, they eventually crossed paths with Janeka. "Did you really think those old wards would stop me?" she asked, pushing casually away from leaning on the wall as if she had been waiting for them. She glared at Larius as she approached. "Look at you, barely able to string two thoughts together. You've only made it this far because of Hawke."

"You can still turn away. Do not listen to his voice!" Larius begged her.

"You're a fool, Larius, and you should have died here years ago." Her staff was in her hands and Hawke felt the pull of a summoning. A revenant appeared, immediately jamming its sword into the ground and chucking it's whiplike chain for Larius. Hawke dipped out of the way, backing up as Larius fell, his feet yanked out from under him by the pull of the chain. Several arcane horrors sprouted up in the corners of the room as Janeka fled, to protect and heal the revenant.

As Larius attempted to get back to his feet, Fenris rushed at the revenant, not hearing her cry of warning. He brought his sword down at it, but it bounced off the layers of shields being provided by the horrors. He flew back, repelled by the shields and hit the ground hard. Anders' magic flared, reaching out to heal any damage he may have taken. Hawke picked up his heavy sword and backed up from the revenant, dragging the tip behind her to hand it off to him. "All right?" she asked as he took it from her. When he nodded, she returned the gesture and pointed out the healer first. "With that one still alive, whatever damage we do will be like trying to swim upstream against the current. Once that one is down, we systematically take down the revenant's defenders. Otherwise, we'll never get a shot in him."

They followed her plan, dodging the revenant and it's chain as they fought it's flunkies. She felt the magic hit her as one of the horrors tried to dispel her casting. She spun and with slim concentration as she shook off the spell, launched a fireball at the offending horror. It burst into flames and shrieked just as Fenris finally got in close enough to knock the healer out of play. The others focused on the flaming one, spells and steel taking it down. Three more remained. They spread out, Larius and Varric taking the one in the middle, Fenris on the far right and she and Anders unleashing spells on the one on the left. They were fairly easy to kill, but it took time with the revenant dogging them. It engaged Fenris and he lifted his sword to block the swing of it's sword. It pushed him down under the weight of it's swing and he grunted. Hawke left the horror to Anders, summoning her spirit arm to grab the revenant around it's shields and pull it away from him. She threw it across the room and Fenris went back to dealing with his horror as the revenant focused on her.

It spun it's chain menacingly and she stared closely at it's movements. When it released the chain toward her, she stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding it. She dropped down swiftly and grabbed hold of the end of the chain, chuckling slightly as she was reminded of the tug of war challenges that Carver would always issue every year at the family picnic to celebrate a new spring. She tugged at the chain and the revenant let out a deep and throaty laugh as if she were amusing it. She briefly thought it might be a bad idea before spinning to wrap the chain around her back and pull. She caught the revenant off guard, making it take a step forward as she pulled. She noticed one of it's shields falling, but in it's distraction with her, it seemed clueless. She charged her own limbs with physical magic, giving her pull more bite. Now the revenant was irritated and it casually lifted the hand holding the chain and swiftly dropped it, yanking her a good five feet before she was able to dig her heels in and stop. She suddenly felt like a mouse at the mercy of Anders' Ser Pounce-a-lot. It was toying with her. She knelt, picked up the slack and tugged again as hard as she could, pouring mana into her muscles. The extra chain clanked against her greaves with the movement. Then she had an idea. She wrapped both hands around the chain as the revenant decided to lift it's arm to give another tug, closing the gap between them another few feet. As she stumbled those few feet, she pushed her mana into the conductive metal of the chain. It rocketed through the chain toward the unsuspecting revenant just as another of it's shields dropped. It wouldn't take the others long to drop the final shield and she noted the revenant as it looked at the chain in surprise, her muted magic getting through the weakening shields. When the final shield crumbled, she sent another full powered bolt through the chain. The revenant reeled and the magic surged through it's body, making it drop the chain. Hawke backpedaled, careful not to trip on the slack of the chain and then dropped it out of the revenant's reach. It picked up it's sword as Fenris rushed it. He jumped in the air and brought the sword down with a shout, cleaving the beast in two.

Hawke dropped her hands to her knees, her heart racing. Anders jogged to her side. "All right, love."

"Fine," she nodded, pushing up to touch a palm to his face. In spite of his pinched expression, he was still the man she loved beneath all of the layers that made him so crazy. She smiled.

"What?" he asked, as she rubbed her thumb over his stubble.

"I love you," she said softly as the others recovered around them.

A small smile broke through his turbulence and she felt her stomach flutter. He tipped his head, turning his lips into her hand and kissing her palm. "I love you, too. Are you sure you didn't take a blow to the head?" he let out a soft chuckle.

She snorted and shrugged. "Maybe a bit of healing might do me well."

He smiled again, if a bit forced, knowing she didn't really need healing. Instead he took her hand from his face and laced their fingers briefly to mingle their mana, bouncing a little ball of energy between them. When he twitched to pull away so they could continue, she held him fast, pressing her palm further into his. They followed after Larius, leaving the room that Janeka had meant to be their tomb and heading up a crooked set of stairs. It led them up out of the Deep Roads and past the top of the chasm ledge. The top of the prison jutted up before them, the closer look making her cling even tighter to Anders' hand. It was topped with a dome, four griffon statues encircling the open area beneath. Visible waves of golden magic swirled from the statues to the center where the final seal stood. "Oh!" Varric said in awe. "That's nice!"

"What's so nice about it?" she asked skeptically as they began to cross the bridge over the chasm that led to the seal. The wind whipped past them, and she inhaled deeply, glad to be out of the depths. Anders' hand in hers was crushing.

"I was just wondering what someplace sinister and foreboding would look like. And here it is," he remarked, gesturing with his hand.

Just before they crossed into the tower from the bridge, Janeka appeared with the other Wardens. "You're too late, Larius. Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death."

"Hawke has made her choice... the right one," Larius argued.

"The right choice, or the only choice? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree," Janeka said with a victorious sneer.

Larius' reaction made Hawke drop Anders' hand and step forward in curiosity. "It is the past. It doesn't matter!"

"Larius?" she demanded. "What does Janeka mean by 'not allowed'?"

Larius frowned and turned a glare on the other Wardens. "How does she know this? Alec, did you tell her? Malcolm Hawke was reluctant, had to be... persuaded." Larius turned away to gaze out over the chasm below. "I was Warden-Commander. It was my duty. I delivered an ultimatum... help us, or you'll never see her again."

Hawke growled in anger. "You were going to kill my mother!"

"No, never! He came with us. I never had to decide her fate," Larius pleaded, turning back to Hawke and begging her to see. "She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me."

"You see, Hawke," Janeka pushed. "How can you trust anything Larius says?"

Hawke gritted her teeth and balled her fists. "Larius' threats were reprehensible, but he's still right about Corypheus."

Janeka sighed. "You can come willingly or not, Hawke. I just need your blood."

The threat was clear as she and the other Wardens drew their weapons. After what they had just fought through, Janeka and a few Wardens were a walk in the park. Hawke had been prepared, a glyph already primed at the woman's feet. She slipped the mana into the crushing prison to negate the magical threat, and then summoned a tempest that struck all around the tower, leaving burn marks in her wake. The confusion that ensued as the Wardens tried to dodge the angry bolts made them easy prey for Fenris and his wraith form as he slipped back and forth across the field, her bolts not touching him. When the prison broke open, Varric sniped Janeka straight between the eyes.

"He stirs," Larius said urgently as the magic calmed and the Wardens laid dead. "Slay him now, before he wakes. Before his strength comes. The key. It's not strong enough. Use your blood. Free him and slay him."

Hawke stepped inside the tower. The magic felt oddly familiar and the key pulsed at her back. She observed the workings of the spell, breaking it down in her mind, her eyes closed as she reached out to feel the flow of mana. She would need to go around to the four statues and dispel the wards around them before she approached the seal. She moved deliberately toward the first statue, the magic primed in her palm. When she touched the griffon's clawed foot, an audible pop sounded and the golden mana slowly flowed away from the statue and back toward the center. "It worked!" Anders gasped. "You can see the binding spell's already weakened."

"Just three more to go," she mused as she stepped away from the statue and headed around the circumference of the tower.

After she dispelled the second statue, the air began to become thick and Fenris frowned. "Are you certain this is a good idea?"

"It takes Hawke blood to open his prison. I imagine he won't stop until he has what he wants," she pointed out, moving for the next statue.

Fenris sighed in agreement. "Isn't that always the way with these ancient prisons?"

After the third statue, Anders said through gritted teeth. "He's almost free now."

The air suddenly thinned rapidly and Varric hummed. "You feel that? It's like... something is lifting." He followed her to the last statue and said as she reached for the claw. "Last chance to change your mind."

When the dispel took hold, she turned and looked at the seal. The upraised dais was now accessible and the urns stood ready for the key. The others hovered around the edge of the tower's walls, watching as she slowly climbed the tall stairs up to the dais. In the middle was a small well. She pulled a dagger from her belt and held it above her arm. Her poor left arm seemed to be doomed to be the carving spot for blood magic. She hesitated, wondering if she was ready to do this again. At least this time, the deals had been struck centuries ago. All she was really doing was feeding the beast that already lurked. She gritted her teeth and dug the blade across the side of her arm. The blood flowed freely and she bit her lip against the sharp, biting pain. When the well was full, she could feel the magic waiting for the key. She pulled it from her back and it reached out on its own, pulling from her grasp to float above the seal, glowing brightly as it absorbed the golden magic that was swirling around the dais. Then suddenly, she was thrown from the dais, landing hard on the ground between the others and the seal, the key landing beside her. She scurried to her feet, grabbing the staff and readying herself for anything. She had a few scrapes from hitting the ground, but otherwise, she felt fine. As the others grouped around her and she brushed herself off, she glanced up at the creature manifesting from the magic. It swirled up from beneath the ground like a ballet dancer, twirling in place. It was anything but beautiful, however.

It reminded her of a Darkspawn emissary, but different. There was an intelligence behind it's eyes when it glanced around after being set down on it's feet. The look made her uneasy. It had on a long mage robe below a mostly bare chest, the skin fused with what could have been metal armor at some point. It was tall and skeletal, it's shoulders only as wide as they were because of the furry pauldrons that jutted out from another metal piece around it's neck. It's face was much like it's body, the skin stretched around pieces of jagged stone that stuck out at odd angles. What really made her shudder was when it opened it's deformed mouth and spoke in a deep and ragged voice. "Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?" His gaze finally fell on her and the others and Anders cringed at her side. He pointed a long skeletal finger at them and continued. "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!"

"Dumat..." Anders said in wonder. "was the first Old God to become an Archdemon. There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter."

"You look human," the creature said in awe. "Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves? Why come you here?" He tipped his head in curiosity before almost shrugging. "Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any Magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!"

Hawke nearly snorted. "You're a Darkspawn. Dark...spawn..." she repeated slowly as if talking to Sandal. "Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Does this ring a bell?"

Her tone drew his attention to her and he narrowed his eyes. "You are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He glanced around again as if taking in his surroundings before turning his face to the sky and calling out. "Dumat! Lord! Tell me. What waking dream is this?" he paused and when he obviously got no answer, he hung his head and mumbled. "The light. We sought the golden light. You offered... the power of the gods themselves. But it was... black... corrupt. Darkness... ever since. How long?"

"The Golden City," Larius gasped. "The first violation. The Magisters who brought the Blight."

"That's ridiculous!" Anders snapped. "There were no magical bogeymen who trespassed in the Maker's city. It's a story."

"You don't think a Magister would be arrogant enough to challenge the Maker?" Fenris asked. "You need to meet more Magisters."

"It's Chantry propaganda," Anders insisted.

Hawke shrugged. "Unless Corypheus is for real, everyone who knows what happened is long dead."

Anders pursed his lips and offered her a disbelieving smile. "You don't think it's a little convenient? What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The Blights. Why not pin those on mages too?"

Corypheus interrupted their debate. "What manner of speech is this? How long have I slumbered?"

"He tainted the world," Larius accused. "He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn, Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you..."

"If he's been calling the Wardens to free him, what's his plan? He seems confused," she pointed out.

"He slept. While the seals held, he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that passed," Larius said. "We must kill him now. Before he comes to."

Hawke puffed out her chest and grinned wryly. "First he went after the Maker in His house, then me in mine. I'm honored."

Corypheus suddenly seethed. "The city! It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours! If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I seek the light!"

Larius turned and fled back out to the bridge as Corypheus took to the air, magic surrounding him. He floated down to their level, wrapping his arms around his core as if preparing to cast. She did not recognize the spell, but Anders' barrier hummed up around her and she felt secure. He unleashed the blast and they were all thrown backwards. It took her a moment to regain her equilibrium, but then she was casting. Every spell she could think of rattled off her fingers and into the staff in her hands. She had no idea how to fight an ancient Magister. She started with a dispel that did absolutely nothing. Crossing that off the list, she reached for offensive magic. She tested some smaller spells, not using too much mana, just to see what would hurt him. He seemed vulnerable to physical magic, so she grabbed hold to the air above him and yanked downwards, The Fist of the Maker staggered him, temporarily putting him on the ground. "I made your sacrifices, Lord. Strengthen me now!" he shouted as he got back up. He drew in his magic again and unleashed it in another burst of energy. He disappeared and seemingly teleported. As she looked around for him, her eyes landed on the dais as he called out again, his arms upraised. "Dumat! Grant me your powers!" He reached for the furthest griffon statue from them and the golden magic swirled from the bird's beak, dancing along the air to settle in his chest. "Ah! The fire in my veins!" he said exultantly. When the power was completely within him, he threw his hands to the sides and jets of flame began to pour from his palms as he spun in a slow circle. "You cannot avoid my fires!"

"You've got to be kidding me..." Hawke grumbled as she scurried out if the path of the flamethrowers that were his hands. She and the others clustered into the nearest statue alcove as the heat rushed past them, licking over Anders' barriers.

He's absorbing power from the statues," Anders pointed out.

She poked her head out to see where the flames were. When they passed by their hiding place, she ducked out of cover and slapped her palm down on the statue's foot, attempting to weaken the fire. "We should destroy them! While we can!" Fenris shouted. She attempted to slam a stonefist into the statue, but it was made of sturdier stuff.

"If you figure out how, do let me know," she grumbled as the second jet of flame approached. She was forced back into cover as it circled. Then she moved out from the alcove and moved between the flames, heading counter clockwise toward the next statue while Corypheus mocked.

"I am an acolyte of Dumat! You cannot harm me!" The stench of demon filled the air as she dispelled the next statue and a pair of guardian shades popped up on either side of their cover. It was close quarters as they fought, but the shades went down easily enough. After that, each time she damaged a statue, the shades appeared, forcing them to expend energy to kill them while Corypheus spun, spewing his flames of death. When she'd taken out the last one, he reigned in the flames and shouted. "Perhaps a little something more!"

"Watch out!" Anders shouted as she watched him disappear again. When he reappeared, he was nearly on top of them. She repeated her testing of spells, and even attempted a weak winter's grasp since he had been throwing fire at them like a dragon.

"Burn, you miserable insects!" he growled as he flung a fireball down among them.

"What? He has fire, now?" Varric complained, swiftly reloading Bianca.

"He absorbed it from the statue!" Anders explained as he traced a glyph in the air before him and then passed a barrage of ice shards through it. They raced through the air and slammed into Corypheus, most of them pinging off his metal chest plate.

The ones that did connect made him angry and he disappeared, porting to the dais again where he reached for another of the statues. "The power is mine! I am restored!" A great burst of green energy surged from him and he laughed maniacally. "Scurry, little rats! The maze closes in."

Hawke immediately dispelled the statue beside them already and they fought off the shades. When she looked out to see him circling with his fire again, she also noticed that large chunks of rock had jutted up from the ground, creating a maze through the tower. "Now what?" she grumbled. It was going to make getting to each statue that much more difficult. She waited until the blaze of fire passed and followed it closely, trying to ignore the sweat that had broken out on her forehead. She skirted in and out of the rocks, looking for the shortest path to the next statue as the flames got away from her and the other side crept up behind. One wrong turn would make for a very crispy afternoon. Finally, they made it, slamming themselves in a tight balled group behind the wall for cover form the chasing flames. Leaning against Fenris as the flames licked around them all, she felt his heart pounding as quickly as hers. They were all feeling the strain of this fight. She was the first to step out, so she could dispel the statue.

"You will die before you touch me, worm!" Corypheus taunted from the safety of his dais.

Varric grumbled as the shades fell. "He's boxing us in. Find a clear path!"

She followed the same scurrying technique as she had, the flames feeling like they were even closer that time as they fell in behind the safety of the walls. She hated that she was doing exactly what he had said, scurrying like a rat. She slammed her palm down on the statue, dispelled the magic, killed the shades and moved on. Hating every step through the magical maze. He came at them again as the final statue was dispelled. "He comes!" Fenris shouted, his sword at the ready.

Sweat was dripping from all their faces and a few of them had cuts and burns. None of them were leaving unscathed. She felt Anders gearing up to send healing out to them and she stopped him. "Save your mana. We're fine."

He frowned at her, but abandoned the uncast spell as Corypheus popped up between them. "He's covered in rock! We need to stun him, get it off!" Varric shouted as she noticed the rockarmor spell. It was the first spell he'd used that she was remotely familiar with. She spun her staff, gathering momentum to slam him with a physical blast of mana, drawing his attention. He was looking no worse for the wear compared to them and she batted him around a few more times, cracking him in the face with the head of the key before he retreated to the center of the dais to draw from another of the statues.

"Dumat! Grant me your powers!" With both hands outstretched in opposite directions, he greedily lapped up the magic from the two remaining statues, his only sign of weakening that he felt the need to do both at once. "The lightning likes me! Feel the chill. You cannot outrun it. You cannot escape."

"Sweet mother of pearl!" Varric gasped as the rocks began to crackle with lightning and massive icicles began to fall from the ceiling at unpredictable intervals.

"Watch out for the ice!" she shouted as Fenris was nearly impaled the second he stepped foot inside the circle of the tower.

"And the rocks!" he agreed. "Don't get too close!" Anders slipped a lyrium potion into her hand as she tried to eyeball a path through the now sparking maze after they dispelled the staute in their alcove. With a weary smile, she thanked him, but before she could down it, Fenris held her hand at her side. "Ready?" he asked, lifting his fist back as if he were gearing up to punch her. She handed the potion back to Anders and nodded, knowing he would need the potion for himself. Fenris' hand slipped inside her and he poured enough lyrium into her to fully restore her reserves. Panting as he pulled his fist back from her chest, she felt excess mana crackling in her own palms. She reinforced Anders' barrier and they started from the alcove as a group, moving through the rocks quickly to avoid the circling flames, falling ice and sparking rocks.

"If he pulls a dragon out of his ass, I'm leaving," Varric grumbled, as they fell into the alcove, the fire hot on their heels. She reached out and dispelled the statue. "There has got to be a better way to do this!"

She tended to agree. So far they were really not making a dent in his power, but they were all flagging. Even Fenris' marks were flickering. She glanced at the others, wracking her brain for another plan. Coming up short, she sighed and dipped out of the alcove after the rotation of flames passed by. She skirted to the next statue and as her hand fell on it, Corypheus growled in anger. "No! You are stronger than I thought... but not strong enough." Her heart fluttered in hope. Their efforts were having an effect. She could feel each dispel getting easier and the demons released were getting weaker.

She smirked in victory, a new wave of determination washing over her. She ran from the alcove, Anders shouting behind her. She stepped out of the way of a falling stalactite of ice, and ran around a cluster of rock. In her path, two formations of rock were connected by a long current of electricity. She ran toward it, seeing no other way back out unless she backtracked into the flames. She ducked beneath the current, rolling back to her feet and coming out on the other side into another cluster of ice falling toward her. She lifted her hands and the cold struck her barrier, making her fingers go numb. She gritted her teeth against the barrage and then pushed forward. The flames were gaining. She ran for the alcove, her dispel charged. She balked as she passed into the outside and the snow and lightning blazed around her in the previously cloudless sky. "What is going on out there!" she gasped as the others rushed up behind her, having followed the fire that had been licking at her back.

"He's summoned a storm around the entire tower!" Fenris gasped as well.

She pursed her lips. "Get ready." She slammed her palm down and the demons appeared. When the last one fell, she turned to see him disappear, eliminating the fire threat. "Here he comes."

Corypheus appeared in their midst, hovering impossibly above the ground. Hawke began to cast, but before she could finish, he spun in a rapid circle, shards of ice slinging from him in all directions and sending them scattering as he cackled. "Is there a chill in the air?"

"I bloody told you he would cackle," Hawke grunted as one of the shards caught her leg and drew blood right before another cut across her neck.

"Congratulations, Hawke. You're always right. Can we kill him now?" Varric shouted from behind one of the rock formations. She dipped behind her own rock, trying to make a plan for the event that he did indeed pull a dragon from his ass.

"Run all you like. I can reach you anywhere!" He taunted, proving his point by unleashing some lightning around. A bolt struck uncomfortably close to where she was crouched and it made her angry that someone was using her preferred magic against her. She stood boldly from behind the rock. He spotted her instantly as she heard a cry from across the room, distinctly Anders' voice. His pain made her even angrier. Corypheus summoned some spirit energy and released it toward her in a beam from his palms. She stabbed the butt of the key into the ground before her and drew the protective circle around herself. When the magic slowed, she lashed out with a fireball wrapped around a stone fist. It collided with his chest and he stumbled back, shouting in surprise. He growled at her, recovering quickly, cupping his hands around more spirit energy before him, she flipped the key and drew in the power in the air. Throwing her hands out before her, she interrupted his casting with a blast of charged energy that slammed into him and brought him to his knees. He knelt on one knee, clutching his chest and breathing heavily as the room went eerily silent and all of his spells crumbled. He looked up at her in disgust and with the final insult, she drew in everything she had left and slammed the butt of the key into the ground before her, focusing all of her energy through the humming crystal. The magic left her in a form that she was not normally capable of. Giant spikes of ice jutted up from the ground around him and his entire body went rigid as it turned to ice. For a few moments, she considered shattering the new statue, but then it fell to it's side and shattered on its own, the pieces skittering in all directions.

She dropped the key to the ground at her feet, and the others rejoined her. Anders was limping, but he brushed off her concerns. The sweat was pouring off of her and she pushed her hair back from her face as she knelt beside the thawing remains and began to hunt for clues as to what his real story was. The bloody gash in her neck burned as the sweat found it's way into it. She ignored it. She knew Anders was in no shape to be healing if he hadn't already done so for himself. They had all taken a beating. Him especially. When she found a strange looking amulet around what used to be Corypheus' neck, she gingerly plucked it from the mess, attempting to block out the squishing sounds as the body parts shifted. "That amulet..." Anders gasped when it spun in the air before her as she stood. He moved to her side and she took a good look at his face. He looked better. The lines that had pinched his eyes and the frown on his forehead had both left him with Corypheus' death. She smiled to herself as he continued. "No one's used that pattern since before the First Blight." He took it in his fingers to study it and she let go of the chain so it dangled in his hands instead. "It was unique to a small sect in Tevinter who worshipped the god Dumat. Corypheus really was an ancient magister..." His eyes widened as he looked up at her.

"They're no myth, mage," Fenris snarled. "Nor have the Magisters changed."

Anders' voice was wispy as he spoke. "I always thought the Black City was just a story..."

Hawke touched his arm and spoke gently. "Even if it's true, it doesn't justify punishing mages over a thousand years later."

"Do you think?" he snarled. Then he sighed. "What else might the Chantry know that we don't? I... I'll need to study this further." he pocketed the amulet and she took his hand, ready to be free of the Vinmark Mountains.

Larius reappeared as they headed for the exit to find one of the magical bridges the Warden journals had mentioned. He was walking straighter, his eyes slightly less milky and when he spoke, his voice was steadier. "You did well, Hawke. More than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish. I will tell the Warden-Commander of your service here."

Anders lifted a single brow and smirked. "You think the Wardens will give you a warm welcome looking like that? I don't think we're supposed to come back from the Calling."

"I must try," Larius lamented, hanging his head. "You've gained an ally today." He looked back at Hawke.

"Why are you talking like that?" she asked worriedly. It was strange to hear him so lucid.

He shrugged. "My head is clear now. Without Corypheus' call, I can think again. I thank you for my freedom," he said with a pleased grin.

She figured his explanation made sense and she shrugged. "And here I thought I just gained a headache."

"I will never forget what you did here. The prison stands no more. My gratitude you have, for my freedom," he repeated and then simply walked off.

"Let's get the bloody hell out of here before Hawke's luck lands us in another epic battle with ancient evil," Varric japed.

"You can't blame my luck _all_ the time," she complained as she reached out with her mana to see if she could feel for a way across to the ledge. She moved toward the edge of the bridge they stood on and a hum of magic drew her a few feet to the left.

Anders chuckled, the sound making her heart sing. "It _is_ notoriously bad, love."

"You're all just lucky that Fenris juiced me earlier so I can get us out of here the easy way." She approached the spot and called on her magic, concentrating on the spell that was woven into the stone beneath her. She lifted her arms and poured the magic into the bridge. From beneath in the chasm, several specially carved stones lifted and snapped together with loud bangs, forming a bridge for them to cross all of the way to the ledge. As it continued to form, she stepped up on the first stone and took a tentative step, her arms still upraised and her attention still on completing the bridge. "Stay close behind me. I don't know how long this will last. It's not my spell."

They crossed the narrow bridge as slowly as they dared, Hawke concentrating on her footing as much as the spell. If she looked down, she just might need new trousers. When they reached the other side, she wanted to kiss the solid ground. Instead, she wobbled on her feet as the others stepped from the bridge and then her arms dropped like sacks to her sides and the bridge crumbled. "Whoa, there!" Anders gasped, catching her as the world spun around her.

"Oh, hello," she giggled, pressing up against him. She suddenly felt the strain of so much magic use and the stress of everything that had happened and it was making her slap happy. It was almost as if she were drunk.

Anders chuckled. "Hawke, you're exhausted. We need to rest."

"I think we're all feeling a little loopy right now," Varric agreed. "Let's get back to the horses and we'll make camp for the night."

They had been going nonstop for a few days and that fact was finally catching up with Hawke as she leaned on Anders. His voice vibrated through her when he spoke. "My leg. I can't carry her."

She snorted and pushed away from him. "I am perfectly capable... oh..." she stumbled again and this time, Fenris swooped in and stopped her from meeting the ground. She let out a surprised yelp as he picked her up off her feet. "Unhand me magical fisting elf."

"Hawke," he scolded as she wiggled in his grip and Anders chuckled from not far off. The drone of his voice had her pressing her ear to his chest, easily distracted in her state. Her eyes fluttered as he spoke again. "What are you...?"

"You smell good," she mumbled, her forehead thumping against the metal of his breastplate as she closed her eyes and couldn't manage to lift her head again.

Anders tittered as Fenris hoisted her closer to him and began to follow Varric back to the horses.

 

That night as they slept out in the elements, huddled together near the campfire on their narrow bedrolls, she dreamt. Since the Arishok, her dreams had not been pleasant things. She stood in her house, the common room fire blazing before her. She crossed her arms and watched the flames flickering. Then from the reading room, her mother appeared, walking gracefully across the room to stand at her side, gazing into the fire as well. She was dressed in one of her finer dresses that she had purchased near the end, but had never worn, never had the chance to wear. The purples and pinks blended well to bring out her stormy eyes. "It's hard to make sense of it, isn't it? To know that Malcolm had this life and never said anything... It may be that he accepted that burden so he could shield us. To give us a life of our own choosing. Much as you do..."

She smiled and glanced down at her crossed arms sheepishly. "That's me, banging my head against the walls of tyranny."

"You know, your father was the same way. Taming the shadows with questionable wit. The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It's what makes you try so hard... You will always have that. We will always be family. It'll be all right." Her mother turned her head and smiled at her brightly and it was just as she remembered. She wanted to reach out and hug her, but as soon as she shifted, the image disappeared, the smile lingering briefly before following the spirit it belonged to.

She woke as the dream fluttered away and she noticed Anders' face pinched. He had nightmares a lot that he explained away as effects of the Warden's Joining. She shifted closer to him, their faces inches apart. "It's all right," she mumbled reassuringly. She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, and then gently kissed his forehead. He was her family now, in spite of it all. She would do anything to protect that feeling. They might not have a happily ever after like in the bardic tales, but they had their happiness in the here and now and that was what was important. His eyes fluttered open as she caressed his cheek. "Bad dream?" she asked in a low voice so she didn't wake the others.

"No worse than usual," he said reaching up to take her hand from his face and lace their fingers together between them. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" he scolded with a smile.

"I had my own dream," she explained. "I spoke with mother. She was... like she was... smiling, whole. She told me it was going to be all right."

"Then why are you frowning?" he asked, his free hand lifting to gently adjust her forehead and smooth out the expression.

"Ever since... when I dream of mother, it's not something I want to remember. This was different. I guess I'm just disappointed that it was a lie of the Fade and not really her."

He pulled her against him, his chin on her head and his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and took comfort in the steady beat of his heart. The heart he had given to her after so many years. They both soon fell asleep again, huddled together.

 


	17. A Kirkwall Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Deep Roads things calm down in Kirkwall for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Anders' manifesto was inspired by the artwork of Coolbyproxy on Deviantart  
> https://www.deviantart.com/coolbyproxy/art/Anders-Manifesto-493204261

When they got back to Kirkwall, Hawke had an inexplicable need to share with her uncle all that she had learned. Something about the trip had made her yearn for the comfort of family. Gamlen was all she had left of her blood. She invited him to the mansion for tea, and was surprised when he actually showed up. She regaled him with the story of how Malcolm had gained freedom for him and mother after discovering she was pregnant. Gamlen listened intently. "Your father had stones the size of watermelons," he said finally. "Wardens, demons, blood magic... Leandra'd shit herself to hear what he did in her name."

Hawke tipped her head in curiosity. "Did you ever meet him, or did they just elope one day?" she asked, the tinkling sound of her spoon in her tea mug the only sound to join the crackling of the fire as she stirred the lump of sugar into the cup.

"I was there when they met, at one of the Viscount's dismal things." He sneered at the memory. "Mages were trotted out to impress the nobles. Malcolm somehow brought dignity to it. Leandra couldn't stop staring." Then he chuckled and smiled. "I was the one who distracted father so they could sneak out to the balcony to 'talk'."

Hawke snorted, pointing her spoon at him. "As if I trust your judgement after you spread Mother's inheritance across Lowtown."

Gamlen sighed, recognizing her teasing. "Are you going to harp about that forever? You've got a bleeding fortune now that puts the Amells to shame. This mess..." He snorted out a brief chuckle. "She wouldn't know whether to miss Malcolm or be furious with him. Maybe both. She perfected that, you know." He sighed again and finished off his tea. Then he stood. "You need something... well, you know how it goes."

She watched him leave and sipped at her tea. Her uncle was nothing if not a pain in her ass, but she thought that deep down, he at least cared a little. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, her feet up on the table now that he was gone and the front feet of her chair leaving the floor. Anders came in, dressed in naught much else besides his trousers, and she watched him cross the room, distracted as he moved toward the tea pot. "Did I just see your uncle leaving?" he asked over his shoulder, his attention momentarily drawn from the paper he'd been looking over as he poured his tea.

"Mmhmm," she confirmed idly as she bit her lip and stared at the muscles in his back as he moved, reaching for the cream.

He noticed her distraction and glanced over his shoulder again. When she flicked her eyes up from his body and to his eyes, he smirked then moved to sit down at the table with her. "You know I'm not some piece of meat you can ogle," he teased, setting down his paper and sipping his tea.

"You like being ogled," she said with a grin.

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "You've got me there."

They sat quietly for a minute, enjoying each other's company before the heavy thoughts of some of the information she'd gained on the trip began to swirl around in her head. He had returned his attention to the parchment he'd been carrying with him and she took her feet from the table, setting her cup down to hug it with her palms. She gazed down into the mug, not wanting to see his expression when she asked him what was on her mind. "Anders, how long do we have?"

She traced a finger around the rim of her mug idly as she felt him look up from his papers. "What do you mean, love?" he asked.

She finally forced herself to look at him and he was puzzled, obviously not following her chain of thought. She sighed. "I love you. And I want to spend the rest of our lives together, but I'm just curious... how much longer is that going to be? With the Joining..."

He sighed and cringed. "Honestly, I don't know. Most Wardens get about thirty years, give or take after their Joining, but with Justice... I... I don't know."

She heaved a sigh of relief. It was better than she had feared. The tension in her shoulders lessened and she reached her hand across the table. He took it in his and crooked a brow at her obvious relief. "I'm sorry, I just thought... maybe the clock was ticking a bit faster than that."

He smiled wryly and cringed again. "There are a few things I should tell you about the Wardens. I'm not supposed to talk about it because if the truth got out, it would seriously effect recruiting. The Joining is obviously not just an oath. Amell conscripted me to save me from the templars. I had no idea what I was getting into. I don't blame her, she saved my life. Every Warden drinks a magical mixture of all sorts of herbs combined with... Darkspawn blood. _If_ you survive the initial crippling pain in your head and the taint coursing through your veins, good news, you're a Warden. I was conscripted shortly after the Blight, so the dreams for me aren't so bad as they could be. We can hear the Archdemon during a Blight, and we can also sense nearby Darkspawn and other Wardens, like a humming beneath your skin. That takes some getting used to. Amell says that her dreams are horrific. I don't envy her. After years of service to the Wardens, you apparently start to hear a song, like the Darkspawn hear that drive them to seek out the Old Gods and bring forth a new Blight. This is aptly named the Calling. It means it's time for that Warden to be sent to the Deep Roads to go out with honor, fighting Darkspawn. If you're not killed in the effort, you become like Larius. Tainted and twisted, no longer worthy of being called a person." His grip tightened in hers as he described his future. Their future. "I got a taste of the Calling with Corypheus. I'm not looking forward to that."

She studied the pained look on his face and remembered back to another conversation they had had before. "You mentioned infertility..."

He looked up at her. "It isn't proven, but would you risk that the child could be tainted?"

She bit her lip, never having considered herself the motherly type. Varric was certainly right about her luck being downright terrible, but the thought of someday maybe having children was something that crossed every woman's mind at some point. "I might be willing to try. You would know straight away if it was tainted, right? If it were..."

His eyes widened. "You're talking about willfully terminating a pregnancy... I'm a healer, Hawke. I've never... I don't think I could..."

"It was just a suggestion," she soothed, reaching out to touch his cheek with her free hand. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't even be thinking about this."

He took her hand in his and scooted his chair closer to hers. "I'm not saying no... I just... let me think about it, okay? It's not like we're in the position to even start trying in our hectic lives. Not with Meredith breathing down our throats..."

"You're right," she breathed, swallowing a sudden anger at the Knight-Commander. She took her hand from his cheek and reached for the paper he had been so intent on. Recognizing his own swirling script, she abruptly changed the subject. "Were you proof reading? Have you finally finished the manifesto?"

"Almost," he said watching her eyes as they scanned the paper.

_On the subject of Mage Rights..._

_Magic is a gift from the Maker._

_They Chantry laws are based on fear of an empire that crumbled a thousand years ago. If the Maker hates magic, why would he still gift it to us?_

_THERE MUST BE A REVOLUTION_

_Change will not come in increments! The Chantry was built by men, and it can be brought down by them. The war is coming... You must choose a side!_

_MAGES DESERVE TO BE FREE_

_It is the natural right for every man woman and child born in Thedas to be free. Mages should be free to Love whom they will and determine their own Fate without interference from the Chantry!_

_THE RITE OF TRANQUILITY IS UNJUST_

_If it's Tranquility or Death, we have No Choice but to make every confrontation a Life-or-Death struggle!_

_Magic benefits everyone_

_Magic can heal_

_Magic should not be locked away_

_WE HAVE THE RIGHT:_

_To wield magic without fear of abuse at the hands of templars._

_To be more than merely tolerated._

_To have Love, Liberty and the Right to shoot lightning at fools._

_IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE_

_JOIN THE REBELLION_

She smiled softly at the clear influence that she had had on his manifesto. "What do you think?" he asked in excitement.

She put on a frown. "You know, it's good, but I think it's missing something..." His face fell as she teased him. "You could fit it on the side here." She pointed at the small piece of blank space beside the doodle of a balled fist crackling with magic. She smirked. "Give me a moment." She disappeared from the kitchen, heading for the nearest inkwell and added her own small joke to his extremely serious manifesto. When she returned to him, she handed the parchment back to him and he glanced from her smirking expression to the paper. "Now it's perfect."

"No more Stupid mage hats... Ridiculous mage headwear is clearly an attempt by the Chantry to demoralize mages so that we will not have the energy to rebel," he read aloud. When he finished reading, he glanced at her as she settled back into her relaxed position, feet up on the table. His own smirk flashed across his face and he set the page down, standing to lean over the table. "You are as ridiculous as those mage hats." He leaned in and kissed her lips. "What do you say we make use of my right to shoot lightning at fools?" He traced charged fingers across her collar bone.

"Oh, do I get to wear a stupid mage hat while I play the fool?" she asked, her voice low and breathy as he taunted her with his magic.

"I'd prefer you wore nothing at all, but I'm flexible," he retorted with a playful smile.

 

"Oh sweet Maker, it's ghastly," she gasped, lifting her fingers in front of her mouth to hide the horror.

Varric was howling with laughter behind her and Anders leered at her side. "It certainly... paints a picture," Fenris remarked with a smirk.

She cocked her head, hoping that if she looked at if from another angle, the sight would be less painful. She was mistaken. In fact, it may have gotten worse. "I think it's charming," Merrill commented.

"You would, Merrill. Your most prized possession is a broken mirror," Hawke said, unable to pry her eyes off the monstrosity before her.

"They haven't unveiled the best part, yet," Aveline said, crossing her arms with a grin. There was a flush to the Captain's cheeks that she had had since her wedding. Happy looked good on Aveline, and she had desperately needed the vacation she had taken for her honeymoon.

Suddenly a great flash of light burst before them, lighting up the evening sky and Hawke sighed. "Lovely, it lights up. This just keeps getting better." Her wistful tone had Varric doubling over as he continued to laugh at the gigantic statue that had been erected on the docks just outside the old Qunari compound to honor the Champion of Kirkwall.

"You see, this is what happens. You save a bloody city and everyone pretends to forget the fact that they were saved by a mage," Anders snarled, a quick spark of blue flashing through his eyes as he balled his fists.

"I don't think it's all that bad," Sebastian agreed with Merrill.

The statue stood three stories tall and was carved from stone. Hawke did not envy the poor masons who had been commissioned to build the gigantic helmed templar. She also was glad that her visage had not been a part of this gaudy waste. The figure stood, literal flaming sword raised high in the air, lit by mage fire, and one foot stepping on the skull of what was obviously a Qunari, it's horns very much resembling the general shape of the Arishok's. Frankly, the statue was insulting, but the nobles of the city had wanted to waste their money on it. Likely because it was on the docks and they would never have to look at it. The image screamed out to every ship that came to port, 'This city is protected'. "I can't look at it anymore," Hawke groaned, turning away and starting up the stairs toward Lowtown. "I need a drink."

"Wait! You can't go!" Varric chuckled as he caught up to her. "What if they want their Champion to make a speech?"

"Then they will be sadly disappointed," she said continuing to outpace him as he followed along behind still laughing.

"I can't believe it's a templar," Anders grumped with a scowl.

"Then you have no imagination nor grasp of the people of this city," she mused with a chuckle, bumping his shoulder with hers. "At least not the rich ones, anyway."

"Aren't you one of the rich ones?" he teased, his melancholy lifting as they reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the Hanged Man.

"Yes, but I still remember my humble roots. Which is why I still choose to waste my money on the swill in this place." She pushed open the door and stepped into the cozy tavern, nodding to the rest of the regulars and ordering a round before they all gathered around their usual table.

"Is Rivaini still not talking to you?" Varric wondered, wiping a final tear from his eye as he came down off his laughter as the image of the statue faded.

Isabela was parked at her usual spot at the bar, but she didn't so much as glance up when Hawke and the others arrived. Hawke, however, noticed the tensing of her shoulders and how her head dipped closer to the bar as if she could hide. "Apparently not, but I think I'm going to change that." She slung her coat over the back of her regular chair and the others settled in as she sauntered across the tavern. She moved up beside Isabela and leaned her elbow on the bar. "Oh! That looks like the house special!" she mused, leaning over to get a look at the bottle that Isabela was clutching in her hand. "Whiskey flavored with rat droppings..."

Isabela shot her a nasty glare and took another swing from her bottle. "You don't have to keep checking up on me. I'm fine," she snapped angrily.

"I'm just here for the rat flavored whiskey," she joked, taking the bottle from Isabela and taking her own swig.

"Right," Isabela's eyes rolled up into her skull before she sighed, her arms flat across the bar. "Remember what you said after the mess with the Qunari?"

"I'm proud of you for doing the right thing?" Hawke wondered, reinforcing her belief that Isabela had done just that.

"It may have been the right thing, but it was also the dumb thing. The relic was mine. I should have kept running," she said. The sigh that followed told Hawke that she didn't really believe what she was saying.

Hawke set the bottle down on the bar and reached out, placing her hand over Isabela's. "I couldn't have saved Kirkwall without you."

Isabela snatched her hand away, cradling it against her ample bosom like Hawke had burned her. "Bullshit! You could have stormed the Keep and slaughtered all those Qunari if you had to. You and Aveline. I mean, look at her... she's a woman shaped battering ram." Isabela pushed away from the bar and Hawke mirrored her movement, blocking her escape. "The fact is... you and I have _nothing_ in common anymore. You're a Champion, and I'm just a lying, thieving snake." Her tone was meant to be hurtful as she got in Hawke's face, but Hawke continued to smile.

"Whatever you think you are, I still care about you," Hawke assured her. "It must have been hard to give up the relic, and I appreciate it." She took Isabela's hand and held it fast. "Whatever comes, you have my support."

Isabela rolled her eyes so far upwards that her head rolled with them. She was not quite ready to look Hawke in the eyes as she sighed heavily, blinking rapidly. "Well, perhaps it's time to stop hiding, and I do miss the trouble we used to get into." When she finally glanced up, her brown eyes meeting Hawke's stark blue ones, she smirked. "Tell you what, I'll be here if you need me."

"Why don't you just join the rest of us," Hawke suggested, glancing over her shoulder where the others were already enjoying themselves over their drinks.

"Only if I can bring my rat flavored whiskey," she said with a smirk.

 

Things returned to a Kirkwall normal and Hawke began ease into the fact that everyone in the city knew her face and her name. In fact there were those even outside the city who had caught wind of her status. She was meandering through Hightown one day with nothing to do except maybe a bit of shopping, with Anders' hand firmly clasped in hers, when she was stopped by a woman with dark hair and eyes who looked troubled to say the least. She wore clothing that set her apart from the Kirkwallers, the style just that far off for Hawke to realize that she was not a citizen. "Mistress Hawke, I must speak with you. You're the only one that can help." When the woman realized she had Hawke's full attention, as Hawke dropped Anders' hand and turned to face her, she continued. "The Wardens mounted an expedition to retrace your route through the Deep Roads to discover whatever it is you found years ago." She hung her head as Hawke shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the Deep Roads. "It's a fool's errand, and my poor brother is with them... Nathaniel Howe."

"Nathaniel?" Anders asked in recognition. "Well put me in a dress and call me a templar. How is the old boy doing?"

"He's missing, serah," the woman snapped. "Haven't you been listening?"

Anders scoffed. "I'm not worried about Nathaniel. He's crawled out of worse places alive."

"I take it you and Nathaniel have some history," Hawke quirked a brow in curiosity.

"Certainly," he confirmed. "We were in the Wardens together in Amaranthine. Hordes of Darkspawn, psychotic broodmothers... usual Warden business." He shrugged with a grin. "I wonder if Nathaniel ever found a sense of humor?"

Hawke rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the Warden's sister. "Why were Wardens interested in our expedition?"

"Maker help me, I have no idea. My brother never tells me these things," she said in exasperation.

Then Hawke shrugged. "Wardens range into the Deep Roads all the time." She didn't see cause for concern.

"But he's been gone far too long. Something terrible has happened," the woman insisted and Hawke exchanged a glance with Anders to which he responded with a shrug. "I'd tell the Wardens, but by the time I reach Vigil's Keep... my poor brother."

"Do you know any other details?" Hawke asked, fishing for any indication that she was wrong.

She shook her head. "I know almost nothing. Nathaniel never speaks about the Wardens." Hawke recognized the frustrated look on the woman's face, having expressed the same on her own face before Anders had told her so much about the Wardens. "It was only happenstance that I heard your name mentioned." She sighed heavily. "Please, go back to the Deep Roads. Find my brother. You must!"

With another glance over at Anders, Hawke sighed almost as heavily. She was not looking forward to taking this trip again. They would be gone for a few weeks, and she felt like after Corypheus, she had had her fill of the Deep Roads for a lifetime. She knew what Anders meant when he said he hated the Deep Roads. "I'll do what I can."

The woman thanked her, and left her and Anders standing in the market. Hawke's shoulders slumped and she wondered when she had become a bleeding heart. She had started taking jobs helping people to reap the coin. She didn't need coin anymore, but still, she was helping. Bloody stupid was what it was. With a sigh, she started toward her house. She would need to pack and make arrangements, then convince Varric and some others to go with her. This was going to be a fun day.

She entered the mansion and headed upstairs for her bedroom and her pack. Anders strolled close behind, a sour look on his face. After she pulled her pack from the armoir floor and started to stuff things in it, she noted Anders dragging his own pack from under the bed. She paused her packing and frowned. "What're you doing?"

He glanced up at her, mild surprise crossing his face. Then he smiled warmly. "I'm packing for the Deep Roads. What does it look like?"

"But you hate the Deep Roads. You don't have to come," she assured him. "I can bring..."

"Hawke, love, I'm a Warden. It'll be safer with me there," he rounded the bed to where she was standing and took her hands from her packing. "I wasn't there the last time and you lost your brother. I won't let anything like that happen again."

She shuffled her feet as he held her hands, rubbing her knuckles. He had utterly lost it the last time they were in the Deep Roads. There had been extenuating circumstances, certainly, but she didn't want to put him through that again. "Will you be okay?" she asked tentatively, raising her eyes to meet his.

"I'll be fine. Without Corypheus whispering in my ear, the Deep Roads are simply mildly irritating. Like a fly buzzing around your head," he assured her, lifting one of his hands to palm the back of her head and pull her toward him so he could kiss her forehead gently. "I want to be there to keep you safe. Not like you really need it, but it'll make me feel better. It's easier than sitting around the clinic all day worrying for weeks."

Hawke bit her lip and pressed against him, allowing him to hug her. "If you insist..."

"I do," he said.

"Then get back to packing. It's going to be a long trip."

 

Convincing Varric to come with her had been a chore. She had never had to convince him of anything before. He usually just went wherever she went, loyally following her blindly because they were friends. She had finally had to offer to pay his tab at the Hanged Man for a whole year before he agreed. She would not have pushed so hard, but she was loathe to go anywhere without Varric and Bianca watching her back. That sentiment was quadrupled in intensity when it came to what had been dubbed the Primeval Thaig.

"Fine," he had finally submitted. "But I am standing in every door way until everyone passes through before me."

"That's fair," she had admitted with a shrug. "I wonder if we'll both fit."

Aside from the two of them and Alfie, the crew had changed from the last time. With Anders insisting to come, she hadn't needed to ask Merrill, and her warrior slot was filled by Fenris as usual. She remembered Isabela being relieved the previous time when she had left her behind, so she had elected to do so again.

They set off from the city that evening, Hawke eager to get the trip over with as soon as she could. She had told Bodhan to send a search party after three weeks if she wasn't back. They made record time to the entrance, and Varric helped her to identify the proper path through the Deep Roads using Bartrand's etching system. There were more Darkspawn than she remembered from the last time as the Blight was 6 years over. Anders was twitchy and he slept pressed tightly against her back each night, but otherwise, he was himself. It was one huge relief off her shoulders.

Around day nine in the Deep Roads, they were nearing the place where they had seen Sandal and the frozen ogre, when Hawke heard scuffling ahead. "There are Darkspawn here," Anders informed them.

Hawke took a turn that she had recalled from before and around the bend there was a man with long black hair pulled back on the sides. He was wearing Warden armor and wielded a bow like he was born with one in his hands. He was surrounded by a pack of snarling genlocks and a few hurlocks to boot. Hawke set to work clearing the threat from around him as more poured in from another path to the left. There were so many that her chain lightning petered out before it was able to strike them all. She conjured a firestorm around the tunnel, casting from her core. Fenris dodged in around the flaming boulders, cutting down the Darkspawn that were grouped and bouncing into each other to avoid her spell. The archer remained focused on killing the Darkspawn, never even turning to see who was casting spells. When the last Hurlock fell to an arrow through its cranium, she stowed her staff and approached the man with is back still to her. "Nathaniel Howe?"

He finally turned to get a look at her as the others gathered around her. One of his brows rose in surprise through the grime of a long battle. "You're the Champion of Kirkwall, aren't you?" His voice was raspy and his eyes studious. When those eyes flicked to the others, he nearly took a step back in shock and gasped. "And... Anders?"

Anders lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. "Making friends as always, I see."

The man snorted and offered his own smile. "There's no escaping you, it seems."

"I'm special that way," Anders quipped.

"That's one way to put it," Nathaniel replied.

Hawke interrupted with her own curiosity. "Delilah says you followed my expedition's route. Why?"

Nathaniel's eyes fell on her next, sizing her up and making a quick assumption that showed on his face as Anders gently touched her arm, asking silently if she was all right. "You went further into the Deep Roads than anyone believed possible. The First Warden himself ordered this investigation. I was offered a generous share of the salvage, plus extra coin up front to discourage any... curiosity."

"It looks like you met heavy resistance," she said sympathetically.

"After the Warden Commander spared the Architect, we thought the ensuing struggle among the Darkspawn might make the Deep Roads safer. The Warden's allies assured us these tunnels would still be mostly clear. But it seems they were wrong," he explained, yanking one of his arrows from a Darkspawn corpse and inspecting it for damage.

"They seem to know a great deal about Darkspawn. Are these allies dwarves?" she asked.

"No, not dwarves." He rubbed his brow as if he didn't relish sharing with her. "It's... complicated. Let's just say we live in strange times."

"Who is the Architect?" she asked, her own brow rising.

He glanced at Anders who shrugged. "The Architect was the first of the speaking and thinking Darkspawn. Very dangerous. He spread his 'gift' to other Darkspawn... the disciples. Fortunately, their numbers are few."

Finally, Hawke crossed her arms and glanced at Anders herself. "I don't remember drawing anyone a map to the thaig. Who told you about it?"

"An unfortunate dwarf named Bartrand." Nathaniel shrugged. "We weren't sure his information was reliable, but contacting you or Varric was deemed risky."

Varric snorted in disbelief. "You trusted my turncoat of a brother, but thought talking to _us_ was risky? That's idiotic!"

Nathaniel sighed. "We feared you might return if you learned of our interest in the thaig."

A skittering noise sounded in a tunnel not far off and Hawke uncrossed her arms and started to turn back toward where they had come from. "As much as I enjoy the company, is there anything keeping us in these Darkspawn infested tunnels?"

Nathaniel's voice called after her and she cringed at his words. "I cannot leave now. When we were attacked, I was separated from the rest of my expedition. Some of them may yet live." He turned and headed in the opposite direction. "We must go deeper into the tunnels to rescue them."

Hawke sighed and dragged her feet back around to follow Nathaniel. "We have survivors to find. Let's go." The others followed at her heels.

"We should move. Stay alert for Darkspawn," Nathaniel said as he took his bow into his hands and started forward.

They followed the tunnels down and around, Nathaniel falling back to talk quietly with Anders. "Does Amell know where you are, Anders?"

"Of course she does," Anders said with a soft snort. After a brief pause, she heard him smirking as he spoke, the expression clear in his tone. "They're cousins, you know?"

"It figures," Nathaniel replied. "Although, I don't see the resemblance."

Anders chuckled softly. "Don't worry. You will. Give it time."

A few tunnels later, they came upon a dwarf being attacked by another group of Darkspawn. They rushed to his rescue and he addressed Nathaniel eagerly as they approached. "Master Howe, you live."

"Temmerin! Good man. Are there any other survivors?" Nathaniel asked with hope.

"Hopefully, up ahead," the dwarf cocked a thumb over his shoulder. He glanced at Hawke and the others. "Well met are strangers in the belly of the earth. I hope Ser Fenley won't mind, but I set up the explosives here and there," he pointed, returning his attention to Nathaniel. "Figured I'd blow up as many of the 'spawn as I could before I embraced the stone."

Hawke threw her arms up before her and gasped with sarcasm. "Corridors lined with explosives and Darkspawn galore? It's not even my birthday!"

Nathaniel grunted and Anders snickered. "I told you to give it time."

Nathaniel addressed the dwarf. "Temmerin, the way behind us is clear. Send word to the Wardens in case we don't make it."

"Aye," the dwarf nodded. "I've set explosives all along the tunnels. Blow up as many of the sodding 'spawn as you can. Luck to you both." Then he headed out the way they'd come.

Hawke had a ball as they pushed further into the tunnels, igniting the barrels of explosives that they came across with both magic and the detonation levers that the dwarf had set up. It was lucky he had because Hawke had never seen so many ogres in all her life. She was sweating and the tunnels smelled of burning Darkspawn when they came upon a group of Warden corpses in one of the wider open areas. Nathaniel sighed as he knelt by the nearest Warden. "I fear we have come all this way for nothing." Suddenly both he and Anders' heads swiveled toward the far end of the room. "But my fallen comrades will be avenged. The Darkspawn are here."

The Darkspawn began to pour in like a wave, nearly tripping over each other as another ogre barreled down the stairs behind them. Hawke spotted one of the barrels near the foot of the stairs and scurried within fireball distance of the target. She formed the ball between her fingers and waited for the ogre to be close enough to the barrel. Then she flung the fireball at the barrel, blowing it and the surrounding Darkspawn to pieces. The ogre roared, half of it on fire, it's eyes tracking across the field to where the fire had come from. When it spotted her, it pounded it's chest and then slammed it's fists into the ground before charging at her. She threw her staff up before her and erected a wall between her and the ogre. It slammed horns first into the magic and it's momentum shoved her back as she braced herself. Her heels dug into the muck under her feet. The ogre stopped pushing and lifted it's head, roaring again in frustration. It proceeded to ball it's massive hands into fists and pound relentlessly on the dome of magic around her. She glanced to her side, seeing Fenris and Varric handling another ogre that had come in from a second offshoot and Anders and Nathaniel busy with their own group of Darkspawn.

Returning her attention to her ogre problem, she siphoned the magic into her left hand, holding it above her head to keep the barrier in place. With her right, she called spirit energy to her fist, then launched the spell through the barrier to hit the ogre in the chest. It took a single step back as the spell pushed through it's thick hide to unwravel in it's core. It then returned to pounding against the barrier, grunting and snarling. Thick blobs of saliva dripped on the barrier and she curled her lip back. "Rude," she commented. "At least have the decency to handle your morning breath before trying to eat me." Her spell was slowly working it's magic and she waited it out, reinforcing her barrier as Anders finished off a pair of genlocks with a winter's grasp and then scanned the field to find her. She watched him panic as he noticed her holding off the snarling ogre, but she wiggled the fingers of her free hand at him with a smirk, showing him that she was just fine. Then she blew him a kiss and he crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "You might want to get behind a barrier if you ever want to wear those clothes again," she warned as the ogre started to back off, her spell taking effect.

Anders jaw fell as he realized what she had done and the magic began to swirl through the ogre, the spirit energy moving through it's veins and bursting every blood vessel it had. He took hold of Nathaniel's arm and she felt him wrap his barrier around the others, reinforcing the thickness. "You're disgusting, Hawke," he said cringing as the spell neared culmination.

She fake pouted and called back. "But you love me."

He shrugged. "I do."

Just then, the walking bomb spell finished it's job and the ogre burst apart from the inside out, ichor raining down around the room. Nathaniel glanced between her and Anders, his brow rising. "That was..."

"Disgusting," Varric finished for him, shaking off his hands as Anders' barrier fell and a few bits of orge got onto him. "Ach. I think I got blood on my coat."

Hawke dropped the dome around her and scurried out of the way of the bloody mess that fell in its wake, bumping Anders playfully as she grinned. Nathaniel glanced around. "For the first time since I've been down here, I don't sense a single Darkspawn. We've won. The route to the surface should be safe now. Because of you, I will see my sister and nephew again." He smiled briefly through the sour look that seemed to make up his entire plethora of expressions before looking with guilt toward Anders. "I apologize I couldn't answer all your questions. You may have them yet, in the fullness of time."

"Stay safe, Nathaniel," Hawke said to him and he bowed to her shortly.

"You as well. And it was good to see you, Anders."

They clasped hands and Anders chuckled. "There's no need to lie on my behalf."

Another brief smile broke over Nathaniel's face before he headed for the surface. "Let's get out of this pit," Hawke insisted, following in Nathaniel's wake.

 

Hawke was three weeks late for her visit with her uncle. She had begun to make it a point to keep an eye on him, like her mother had done even after they had moved from his house. She had forgotten to tell him she was going out of town and when she knocked on the door of his hovel, he answered with a grimace. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Thought you'd given up."

"It's good to see you too, Uncle," she said, brushing past him into the small common room. "I had business out of town. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Yes, well... after your mother... don't run off like that," he said awkwardly wringing his hands. Hawke turned her back on him while he shuffled toward the kettle and started to boil water. "So, you've done well for yourself. I had my doubts the first time I saw you, but... I guess there was something to that Hawke fellow Leandra ran off with after all. He certainly produced an amazing daughter. Your mother would be proud."

Hawke balked for a moment, glancing back at him. "Uncle Gamlen! Was that... affection?"

"I'm feeling sentimental," he said quickly. "We're the only family we've both got left. For a long time, I thought the Amell line in Kirwall would end at me. I'm glad you've pulled it out of the grave."

Something was bothering her uncle. She traipsed casually around the room, a small bit of paper catching her eye on the old writing desk where her letters had used to end up. She brushed her fingers over the note and read over it.

_Gamlen,_

_I found the Gem of Keroshek. If you want it, come to Darktown, alone._

"Leave that alone," he snipped, snatching the note out from under her nose. "There are things in my life that don't actually involve you, you know. Stay out of my business, girl."

"That note mentioned the gem of Keroshek," she pointed out casually. "What's that?"

"It's nothing. Never mind," he said bitterly, balling up the note and tossing it aside all sense of his sentimentality gone.

They sat down at his small table and he slid her the mug that mother had always used. Hawke knew better than to drink uncle Gamlen's tea, but she lifted the mug and held it in her palms as she sat back in her chair. She prodded him further. "This gem sounds pretty impressive. It has a name and everything." It obviously meant something to him and, Maker help her, she felt obligated to help.

"Bah!" he waved a hand. "Don't be stupid. I lost everything chasing that gem... our fortune, our home, even Mara."

Hawke shrugged. "I would have put our wealth into something profitable like Orlesian wigs or nugskin coats."

"Our?" Gamlen sneered and set his mug down on the table making Hawke cringe as a tinkling sound made her think it might crack. "Get this you self riteous ass, you got no claim on that coin. Why don't you head back to your fancy house in Hightown and stay out of my damned business."

Hawke knew a dismissal when she heard one. She carefully set her mug down and stood, wishing Gamlen well before leaving. The note had asked him to go to Darktown alone, though he was obviously going to let this slip through his fingers. She didn't know why it suddenly mattered so much to her that Gamlen wasn't alone. She had freed up her afternoon for the visit and now that she had been kicked out, she was free. She headed to the Hanged Man. Varric greeted her with his arms wide. "Hawke!" then he dropped his arms and glanced around, sighing. "This is awkward."

Hawke raised a brow. "You? At a loss for words? I should mark this day on my calendar." She dropped into a chair and he sat down across from her.

"Enjoy this while it lasts. It might never happen again," he said wryly. "Look. I just want to say, it has been an honor knowing you."

Her other brow followed the first up her forehead. "Are you about to die? Am I? Why so serious all of a sudden?"

"Don't panic," he assured her. "I just needed to get that off my chest. You know it's six years today? Six years since I found you dragging your tail out of Bartrand's office." He let out a short chuff of laughter and raised his mug. "Here's to whatever comes next!"

She smiled widely, and raised her own mug that had automatically appeared in front of her only moments after she'd arrived. "Here's to never having to go back to the Deep Roads."

They both took long swigs of their drinks and she set her mug down in front of her, leaning over the table, her feet hooked around her chair legs. She cradled her mug in her hands and one finger circled the rim. "Something bothering you, Hawke?"

She shrugged. "I just came from my uncle's. Something seemed off about him. Moreso than usual, I mean."

"You look like you want to do something about it," he pointed out.

"I didn't get a lot of answers out of him, but I think it has something to do with a note I found in his house." She briefly explained what she'd read and how he'd reacted when she'd questioned him.

"This sounds like a treasure hunt," Isabela said approaching them from upstairs and straddling a chair beside Hawke.

"Would you like to come along?" she asked. "I was thinking of heading to Darktown now. I am free all afternoon. I was supposed to be at Gamlen's."

"I never pass up treasure," Isabela smirked.

The three of them headed down to Darktown and Hawke sent out her feelers to find who she was looking for. She was led to a group of motley looking men standing in a corner and looking like the epitome of shady. "Are you the ones who sent the note about the Gem of Keroshek?"

The man at the head of the group, decked out in leather armor and sporting twin blades at his hips rubbed at his pudgy chin between the tips of his blonde mutton chops. "We were beginning to think you wouldn't show. It's rude to keep people waiting you know. It's not like I don't got things to do."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "To inconvenience an upstanding citizen such as yourself! My, where are my manners?" she said wistfully.

"Don't talk down to me. I ain't stupid," the man growled, his following speech making her flick her eyes up and down him and suppress a smirk. "See, we was hired to give you a note. But this Gem of Keroshek thing the note talks about? We decided we want that instead. You'd better hand it over."

Hawke snorted, crossing her arms. "I'm surprised you know what a note is, let alone know how to read one."

"Don't need to know how to read," he said with a shrug. "All I need to know is which end of the sword goes where. We aren't going anywhere without that gem."

The man and his crew pulled their weapons, not realizing who or what Hawke was. She had visited her uncle without her staff or armor and hadn't bothered to pick them up before heading to Darktown. Before they even knew what hit them, Isabela had ghosted behind them and backstabbed two of them while Hawke conjured a fireball to throw into their midst. Bianca's bolt found the leader's forehead. Hawke sighed as the chaos died down. "He said he was supposed to give Gamlen a note. Let's see if we can find it."

She knelt beside the leader's corpse and fished through his pockets. A small, carefully folded note read, _Gamlen, this gem is very pretty, I can understand your obsession with it. Remember the game, wallop? Find the place your wallop mallet came from. Your answers are there._ She read the note aloud and Varric hummed. "Isn't there a mallet hanging on the wall at Gamlen's house?"

"I won't be getting a look at that until next week," she mused. "If he even lets me back in after I pried today."

"Talk about a tease," Isabela pouted.

Hawke sighed, her own curiosity burning. "I promise, I'll bring you both along when I find out where the mallet came from."

"What do we do now?" Varric asked.

"You two go on ahead. I might stay here and visit the clinic," Hawke mused.

She had been both helping Anders in the clinic as before, as well as dipping her toes into the Mage Underground, doing a few things for unfortunate mages around the city who needed help. The needy always came to the clinic. She shuffled off, Isabela and Varric heading back to the Hanged Man. She made her way to the clinic, suddenly feeling naked as she walked alone through Darktown in nothing more than a tunic and hide pants. She quickened her pace as the darkness that followed the setting sun began to creep beneath the city. The glow of Anders' lanterns came into sight and she imagined she could feel the warmth of his magic sliding over her skin as she approached.

She slipped inside, and his eyes found her almost immediately, glancing up from the patient he was working on. He cocked a brow in curiosity and she flapped a dismissive hand, encouraging him to return his attention to the task at hand as she approached another patient on a nearby cot, clutching her bleeding arm. She was dressed in a simple peasant's dress, and the slash looked pretty deep. The people had become used to seeing her in the clinic, helping out, so when she approached the woman, the woman looked up at her gratefully. "Mistress Hawke," she greeted her with a sigh before grimacing and folding her body around the bloody limb.

Hawke beckoned her to hand her arms over and she took a good look at the wound. It was not an around the house 'oops' wound. It had been done deliberately. "How did this happen?" Hawke asked gently as she laid it back down and moved to gather a wash basin and clean cloth to get the wound cleaned before closing it up.

As Hawke lightly cleared the blood from around the wound, the young girl explained. "I accidentally cast a simple spell outside my home and a templar noticed. He tracked me to an alley where he tried to arrest me. When I resisted, he attacked me."

"I am assuming since you are here, you fought back?" Hawke asked, raising her eyes from her work to look the girl in the face. She was scared and shaking, her eyes wide.

"I had to... to..." she sobbed softly, hanging her head in shame. "I killed him messere." Hawke artfully twisted her fingers, casting the healing spell that would knit the girl's flesh back together. As her skin began to pull back together, she whimpered softly. "I don't think he was any older than myself. A recruit maybe. And now he's dead... because of me and my magic."

Hawke took the girl's free hand. "You nor your magic are to blame. From the minute he put on that armor and decided to become a templar, he knew what he was signing up for. He chose his path. We can't choose to be mages. Locking us up just for being what we are is unjust. They can't blame us for wanting a thing as simple as the freedom that is the Maker given right of all those born in Thedas."

The wound had closed as Hawke spoke and she took the rag back in her hands and cleaned up the rest of the blood. "Do you know someplace I can go that is safe?" the girl asked, her voice a bit more confident.

Hawke smiled. "Go home, get cleaned up, and leave your name with Lirene. I will make sure she finds you safe passage to Ferelden."

"Bless you, messere," she said, thanking Hawke again before getting up and leaving the clinic.

When the doors closed behind her, Anders wrapped his arms around Hawke's waist and leaned in, nuzzling and kissing her neck. "I love hearing you talk like that," he purred. "I thought you were going to your uncle's?"

She chuckled and pulled away from him, teasingly shooting him a grin before moving to the back of the clinic to clean up her hands and sanitize and refill the basin she had been using. "I think I may have stuck my nose where it didn't belong. He kicked me out. I'm going back next week, though. I'm determined."

"I'm glad you decided to come here," he said with a smile.

"Technically it was on the way. I was down here with Izzy and Varric, investigating something I saw at Gamlen's. It just led me to another question that I will discreetly ask him about next week," she explained. Then they both turned their heads as another patient pushed through the doors.

Anders' eyes narrowed and he focused on the task at hand. The young girl that came in was around nine years old. She was holding the hand of a young boy who looked to be about three. "Please, messeres. My parents..." she pleaded.

"What's happened?" Anders asked, Hawke on his heels. She recognized the girl. It had been a few years, but it was the same little girl who had come in with her laboring mother just after Hawke had returned to the Deep Roads. The tattered bear that she had called Stitch was now clutched in her brother's hands and looking worse for the wear.

"Hannah?" Hawke asked softly, remembering the girl's name.

The girl looked surprised that Hawke had remembered her, but she grimaced and answered Anders' question first. "They were ill when they got up this morning, and it's only gotten worse. They can't even get up out of bed to come here. I don't know what's wrong."

Anders grabbed up a bag full of supplies and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Take me to them."

Hawke was unsure whether she should stay and keep the clinic open, or follow. Her curiosity was nagging at her, but just then, another patient burst through the door, bleeding from a gut wound and supported by one of his fellows. "I'll take care of this," she offered as Anders glanced from the fresh emergency to the pair of terrified children.

His shoulders sagged. "Thank you, love. I'll be back soon."

She set to work, helping the man to a cot and shooing his buddy away. She peeled away the armor that was surrounding the stab wound, making certain there was no cloth or other contaminants in the wound before rolling him to the side to check if it had gone all of the way through. There was no exit wound, so she laid him back and rested her palms on the wound to probe for poison. She found traces of deathroot in his system and sighed. Before she closed up the wound, she would need to leech out the poison. She found herself slipping into a focus that rivaled Anders' doctor face. He had taught her so much in the last few years about anatomy, herbalism, and healing that she had become quite adept. She enjoyed nothing more than the hours they spent together in the clinic. It was good to know that she was able to use her own magic for more than just killing the people that attacked her regularly. She would never be on his level, not having the spirit connection that he did to the Fade, but she had saved her share of lives.

Anders was gone for hours and she got a slew of patients that had her exhausted by the time a young girl no older than 16 came in, her eyes terrified and her face pinched. The emergency was obvious as she crept in, round with child. Her clothes indicated she had been living in less than savory conditions, but Hawke recognized Circle mage robes when she saw them. She immediately dimmed the lanterns and locked the doors behind the girl and then rushed to her side to help her to a bed. Tears streamed down the girl's face. "I... I think it's started," she whimpered, gripping Hawke's shoulder as she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

"You're a mage?" Hawke asked carefully. The girl was already terrified. She didn't want to scare her off. When she nodded, Hawke grimaced. "What's your name?"

"Terri," she answered.

Hawke smiled and knelt on one knee by the cot. She called her own magic and gently placed her palm to the girl's swollen belly and assessed the situation, her eyes closed. "My name is Hawke. Do you know who I am?"

"You're the Champion?" Terri gasped.

"I am also friends with people who can help. If you don't mind my asking, where is the father?"

Terri cringed. "I sh... shouldn't say anything."

Hawke stood and moved to sit on the bed beside Terri, rubbing her back and slipping some magic into her touch to ease the labor pains. The girl was so young. She approached the situation carefully. "Terri, I was never part of the circle, so I really don't know what it's like there aside from the few things I've seen or heard of. But I _do_ recognize your robes..."

The gentle push was all it took to set the girl into sobs. She whimpered as another light contraction gripped her before she confessed. "I... I was part of the Circle for eight years. I practically grew up there. It wasn't so bad if you kept to yourself. That was until I grew into my body. One... One of the T...templars took a particular interest in me. I avoided him as best I could, but there are so many dark places in the Circle..."

Hawke stopped her, understanding the rest of the story before she had to relive it. "The babe is his, then."

"Aye," she nodded. "When I found out I was with child, I escaped the Circle, but I had no money to go anywhere, no family to speak of..."

Hawke was angry. The poor girl had needed help and she had slipped through the cracks like so many in this city. If she had been able to get help, there were ways of preventing as well as eliminating this exact situation. "Don't worry, Terri. We'll get you through this and then whatever you decide, we will make sure you're taken care of."

Terri's labor was tough, but blessedly quick. It was as if she was trying her best to be rid of the infant as quickly as possible. When the squalling infant slipped from her, Hawke took and swaddled her, checking her over and cleaning her up while Terri cried silently. It was heartbreaking when it was all said and done as Hawke repaired the damage of the harsh labor and Terri rolled onto her side and ignored the crying infant.

Anders had donated milk stored in a bin from mothers who had lost their babes and still produced milk. He kept it sealed in a magically iced preserving bin. Hawke picked up the tiny bundle and carried her to the bin, plucking out one of the full bottles and warming it in her palm with her own magic.

Anders returned to the clinic, finding her sitting on the edge of his desk, huddling the infant girl to her chest and humming softly as she tipped the bottle into her mouth. Terri had fallen asleep and Anders crossed him arms and crooked a brow, smiling gently at Hawke. She returned the smile, drawing her eyes up from the newborn. She pushed away from the desk and tossed her head toward his private room. He followed her, closing the door behind them. "And who is this?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know," Hawke said with a shrug, the movement disturbing the girl who gurgled in displeasure before going back to the bottle. "We'll need to find her a family willing to take on a new babe."

"I'm sensing a story," he nudged.

"The girl outside... She's barely old enough to be living on her own. She escaped the Circle months ago after she was raped and impregnated by a templar... She wants nothing to do with her own daughter..." Hawke explained, bracing for the inevitable flash of Justice.

Predictably, Anders' eyes flickered a sharp blue, the skin on his face and neck cracking briefly as rage took over his expression. "Where has she been staying?" he growled.

"From the state of her, I'd say somewhere in Darktown. She was slim on details." Hawke was feeling her own rage frolicking right alongside his. She didn't have a vengeful spirit to break free and enact the thoughts crossing her mind, though, and she took a deep breath, hugging the infant closer. "We need to contact the Underground. It is likely she will grow up and be a mage herself. The family she goes to will need to know about this eventuality."

Anders took his own deep breath and raised a shaking hand up to touch the now sleeping infant's forehead. Hawke felt his magic brush over her as he performed the same checks that she had to be certain she was healthy. Considering how her mother had been living while pregnant it was surprising she was as healthy as she was. "It's late. For tonight, we should take her home with us. I'll get in touch with Lirene in the morning."

Hawke agreed, moving to pack a small bag with some nappies and more of the chilled bottles. Anders left a note for Terri, pleading with her to feel free to stay the night and they would return in the morning to help her get out of the city and move on to a better life. Whether she listened was up to her. Then they rounded the corner, going into the mansion via the basement entrance.

 

Hawke had personally seen to placing the baby girl with a loving family who had just lost their own little girl to suffocation while she slept. They were neighbors in Hightown and the woman could have cared less that the babe might grow up to be a mage. All she wanted was to have her baby back. Now, in a way, she could. Anders handled getting Terri to safety. He had been beyond relieved that she had decided to accept their help.

Around midday, Hawke left her mansion to get some air and drop off a book for Fenris. When she let herself into his mansion, she could hear raised voices coming from the sitting room. She approached, wondering what the ruckus was about. "Are you certain it's her?" he growled.

Hawke crossed into the room and Fenris was pacing before an irritated looking Aveline. "An elf, matching your description, on the ship you named. And alone, as far as I could tell," Aveline confirmed with barely contained agitation.

Fenris slammed his fists down on the table between them, the sound echoing through the room. "I need to know if it's a trap!"

Aveline sighed and stood. "I did as you asked, Fenris. Now it's up to you..." As she turned and headed for the exit, passing up Hawke, she said, "You talk to him, Hawke. I've had my fill for today."

When Aveline disappeared, he pushed away angrily from the table and threw his arms into the air in disgust, cursing. "Venhedis! Fasta vass!"

"Maybe it's just me," Hawke sighed, setting the book down on the same table and rounding the chair that Aveline had been sitting in. "But I'd swear you're upset."

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping and his eyes falling to the floor. "It's my sister. I didn't tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana's information. Everything she said was true." Hawke took a seat, the news a bit weighty. It was a big step for Fenris to even consider anything that witch had said was true, let alone following up on the information. "I had to keep it quiet, but I eventually contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come meet me. And now she's here."

He had gone back to pacing, the back and forth movement less annoying than when Aveline did it, but still irritating. "Yes! Everything's gone exactly according to plan. What could be worse?" she teased, leaning back in the chair.

He stopped pacing and set a glare on her that actually made her shudder. "Yes, yes, laugh at me..." Then his expression switched in seconds and he set pleading eyes on her. "Come with me, Hawke. I need you there when I meet her."

She tipped her head. "I thought you said there was no point in meeting her."

He sighed, the need to do something clear in his balled fists and squared shoulders. "I can't simply leave it like this. I have to _know_. If we go to the Hanged Man during the day, she'll be there. For the next week, at least." Then he hung his head again, averting his eyes in what looked like embarrassment. "It would mean a lot to me. That's all I ask."

She felt her emotions flaring. Not only was he her friend, but he had meant something to her once. She knew how he felt about her, even in spite of her choosing Anders. She stood from the chair and boldly approached him, setting her hand down on his shoulder. "Let me go home and change, just in case, and we can go right now."

He flinched as she squeezed his shoulder, but he did not shy away. "Thank you. I will meet you outside the tavern."

When she went home to change, Anders was elsewhere, even though he had decided to close the clinic for the day after dealing with Terri. She pulled on her armor and picked up her staff. Something about this whole thing made her nose twitch. She felt as Fenris did. It was likely a trap.

He was waiting for her as he'd promised, outside the Hanged Man. The place was eerily quiet and her gut feeling screamed louder in her head. Fenris pushed open the door and they stepped into a tense common room. It was nothing like she was used to. Fenris' attention was elsewhere as his eyes flicked around the room and finally landed on a elf that sat alone at a table near the back of the room. Varric, Isabela and Anders moved up to Hawke's side with curious looks on their faces. They had clearly felt the tension in the room as well.

The girl was near Fenris' age, maybe a year or two older. She was dressed in fine clothes that did not match the station of a supposed servant in Tevinter. From what Hawke understood, non magic users in the empire were treated as less than human, no matter their station. She had bright red hair that was pulled back in a bun with bangs framing her thin face, showing off her pointed ears. Her eyes though. Hawke knew those jade green eyes anywhere. She was definitely related to Fenris. As they approached, she glanced up from the mug of tea between her hands and cringed. "It really is you."

"Varania?" Fenris gasped, his tone wavering. His body tensed and ever so briefly, his markings flared. "I... I remember you. We played in our master's courtyard while Mother worked. You called me..."

"Leto," the girl finished, her studious and guilty gaze finally leaving him as she looked down at the mug again. "That's your name..." Then she stood.

Fenris twitched as the same wave of dread washed over Hawke, making her glance around at every person that filled the room. She realized that she recognized none of them accept her friends. "What's wrong?" Fenris asked his sister. "Why are you so...?"

He didn't have a chance to finish as Hawke noted the figure at the top of the stairs, flanked by several guards. "I'll give you three guesses," Hawke grumbled, taking her staff in her hands. The others followed suit as Fenris' eyes left Varania and widened as he saw the man at the top of the stairs.

"Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always," the man strolled casually down the stairs as if he felt he held all of the power in the room. The attitude made Hawke immediately want to smash his face into the ground, wiping the smug superiority from his smirk.

Varania hugged herself and hung her head in genuine sadness. "I'm sorry it came to this, Leto."

"You led him here!" Fenris growled angrily at his sister, bearing down on her and making her cower.

"Now, now, Fenris," Danarius hummed. "Don't blame your sister. She did what any good imperial citizen should." he moved up beside the girl and patted her shoulder.

Fenris moved away, putting space between himself and Danarius and standing steadfastly at Hawke's side. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius! But I won't let you kill me to get them."

The Magister laughed, the sound making Hawke's skin crawl. He was obviously everything Fenris had hated and feared. Hawke could see the ravages of extended use of Blood Magic that darkened the skin beneath his eyes and wrinkled his flesh. He was older than Hawke had pictured, but that might also be the Blood Magic rearing it's ugly face. She squirmed, rubbing at her own exposed scar on her arm and remembering the power it had brought to her. Danarius was dangerous. "Oh, how little you know, my pet." Then suddenly, his haggard eyes fell on Hawke and she slammed her mask down over her expression, knowing that concern was forefront on her face. Those creepy eyes roved up and down her, pausing at the scar before heading back up to her face. "And this is your new mistress, then? The Champion of Kirkwall? Quite lovely."

Hawke took great offense, something she did not do often. It emboldened her and she balled her fists. "Fenris doesn't belong to anyone."

Danarius cocked his head. "Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?" The smirk returned and Hawke took note of the underlying innuendo that Danarius had slipped into his tone, suggesting that Fenris had done more than protect him while under his thumb.

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris shouted angrily, his marks flaring to life and confirming that Hawke's assumption was correct. It didn't make her think less of Fenris, it just made her angrier at Danarius.

Danarius sighed and rolled his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. "The word is 'Master'..."

That was the final straw. In perfect synchronicity, Hawke and Fenris attacked. She jerked her hand forward, a powerful bolt of lightning striking off of Danarius' arcane shield and bouncing around the room to strike several of the flunkies that he had used to replace the tavern clientele. Fenris flashed across the room, getting around Danarius and removing the torso of three of the armed guards at his back.

The entire tavern erupted into chaos. Hawke felt the guards closing in around her and cast a mind blast to get them away from her so she could back up to a less surrounded position. Fenris was a blur as he cut down everything in sight and Varania fled to hide in terror behind a table that had flipped when Hawke had crushed a man beneath a Fist of the Maker. The others had joined in as well, Anders' magic almost drowning out the spider webby feel of the Blood Magic as Danarius retreated up the stairs and summoned shades and demons to stir the pot and protect himself. She didn't think he had expected Fenris to have quite so much back up. It wasn't long before all they had to deal with were the summoned creatures, the guards falling laughably quickly. Hawke shoved back a rage demon that slithered up from the ground before her with a stone fist and Anders stepped between it and her, dragging his staff head along the ground to block it's advance with a spikey wall of ice. She turned her attention to a shade that was coming up along the left side and swung her staff head around, connecting with it's face. It reared back and she jammed her staff to the ground, a wave of fire blasting outwards to not only hit the shade, but to glance over a couple of other demons that were in the path. Fenris was handling another rage demon that was across the room and Varric and Isabela were tag teaming a pair of shades that remained. Hawke took on the four that she had pissed off with her spell, casting another mind blast to get out of the circle they tried to pin her in and then releasing the blade from her staff. She spun it around, slashing at the shades, connecting with two of them. They crumpled and it left her with the final two. She lifted her hands to cast, but a powerful dispel hit her in the chest as Danarius drew her attention to him. Before she could recover, he Fade stepped across the tavern, putting him in the doorway. She feared he might try to escape, but Anders, unphased by the dispel cast another wall of ice that blocked him in. Fenris felled the demon and as it melted back into the ground, leaving a temporary singe mark on the floor of the bar, he turned his attention on Danarius, just as all of the others did as well. Hawke menacingly spun her staff, brandishing the blade and making it obvious that the dispel had not taken her out of the game. She didn't need magic to fight. It was a shame he knew no other way. As they all bore down on him, Fenris crossed the common room in three strides as he flicked in and out of sight, his markings glowing brightly. He grabbed Danarius up by the throat, lifting him off his feet to dangle helplessly. He dropped his staff, trying to grab feebly at Fenris' fingers around his neck, strangling the life from him. "You are no longer my master," Fenris growled in finality, letting his words sink in before he squeezed so hard that he crushed Danarius' throat in his hand. A spray of blood arched across the room, accompanied by the squish and crack sound of the end of Danarius' life. Fenris dropped the corpse, his shoulders hunched momentarily. Then he spun on his sister, the look on his face terrifying in it's anger.

"I had no choice, Leto," she begged, cowering behind her hands.

"Stop calling me that," he growled as he approached her.

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a Magister," she confessed and Hawke felt her eyes widen in disbelief.

Fenris was unphased. "You sold out your own brother to become a Magister?!"

"Your sister's a mage? You bloody hypocrite! You really are just jealous!" Anders accused, making Hawke gently grab his arm and shake her head sharply.

Varania spoke up again, holding Fenris' attention as Hawke moved Anders behind her with a glare. "You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since Mother died. This was my only chance!"

Fenris' markings ignited again and he bore down on his sister. "And now you have no chance at all."

"Please... don't do this." She looked to Hawke and pleaded. "Please, tell him to stop!"

"Hey," Hawke held up her palms and took a step back. This was Fenris' show, not hers. "I'm a neutral party here."

Fenris had turned and glanced at her and with her words, he returned his attention to Varania. Hawke heard the regret in his tone as he said, "I would have given you everything." Then as she backed into the wall and shook her head in fear, his markings flared again and he reached out and into her chest. Hawke turned her head, hating that she had to hear the pop as he crushed his own sister's heart. He watched her fall and then slowly turned toward them. Hiding behind the hair that fell in his face, he said, "I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging. I was wrong." He glanced up at Hawke, specifically speaking to her even though the others were all privy in the silence of the now empty tavern. "Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone."

Hawke crossed her arms and hummed, ignoring his jab at magic. "You have friends."

"Yes," he said with sarcasm. "A mage as my only friend."

"Hey now," Varric scolded gently. "You could do worse."

Fenris made his confession, his hands twitching. "I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has also stained my soul. And now this..." he glanced briefly at Varania's body. "Let's go. I need to get out of here."

He headed for the exit. Hawke followed him with her eyes at first, debating whether she should follow. Thinking it best if she did, she held up a palm to the others and followed behind him. Outside in the fresh air, Fenris paused. "I know how you feel about comforting, but... I'm here. Anything you need, Fenris," she said softly as he stared off into the dirty streets, his eyes unfocused.

"You are too good to me. I always seem to take my frustrations out on you without cause. I apologize, Hawke. I just... I need to think on this a bit." He sighed and set off towards the stairs to Hightown and his mansion, likely to drink himself into a stupor to forget this had ever happened.

 


	18. Brewing Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions raise in Kirkwall between the Templars and Mages.

Hawke was alone. Whenever she was alone since the night that Terri had come to the clinic, she thought about the poor girl. Something needed to be done. She was desperately trying to focus on the book she was reading to no avail. Finally, she slammed the book shut and got up from her chair. "Is something the matter, Mistress?" Orana asked softly as Hawke dropped the book down on the table.

Hawke wrung her fingers. "I feel like I need to do something. That babe we brought home the other night. She was born to a girl no older than 16 years who was raped by a templar in the Circle. The whole situation is wrong."

Orana dropped her hands into her lap, her knitting abandoned. "What about your templar friend? Captain Cullen?" Orana suggested. Her cheeks flushed. "I know Master Anders does not like your relationship with him, but he may be of help in this situation."

Hawke broke into a grin. "Orana, you are a genius! Anders shouldn't be home for a while. When he gets in, tell him I visited Aveline."

Orana's cheeks flushed even redder. "Oh, I don't know if I can lie, Mistress."

"Don't worry. It'll be easy. I won't be long."

Hawke left the mansion and hurried to the Gallows, hoping she wouldn't have to look far for Cullen. Luckily, he stood in his usual haunt, his eyes lazily flicking around the courtyard. When they fell on her, his eyes narrowed slightly and she balked a bit as she approached. "Hello, Champion."

"Oh, are we doing formal today, _Captain_?" she returned, uncertain how to take his mood.

"What do you want, Hawke. I'm busy," he retorted spitefully.

"Clearly..." she glanced around at the nearly empty courtyard and his mostly idle state. She didn't think she had done anything to deserve his spite, so she crossed her arms and prodded him with her stare.

Under her scrutiny, he balked. His cheeks reddened and she noted him lifting his hand from the hilt of his sword where it rested to nervously rub the back of his neck. When her brow raised, he sighed. "It seems you've become less a friend to the Templars in the years since your ascent. But surely you're the only mage in Kirkwall who can approach the Knight-Commander directly if you wished. What would you have of me?"

"It has come to my attention that one of the templars working within the Circle itself is taking advantage of some of the young girls that he is supposed to be protecting," Hawke informed Cullen, and his own brow rose in horror.

"Do you have any names for me?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, the particular young girl I came in contact with was not particularly willing to share the name of her rapist," Hawke said with a sneer.

Cullen held up his hands against her ire. "I can't make any promises, but I will look into the matter personally."

Satisfied with his answer, Hawke settled her stance. She knew he would take the matter seriously judging by the look on his face. She suddenly had the desire to ask his opinion of the current spiraling situation. "You trust me, don't you, Cullen?" she asked him abruptly.

He narrowed his eyes and they flicked quickly to the blazing scar on her bicep before answering carefully. "You've saved this city and my own life. Why do you ask?"

It wasn't quite an answer, but he was willing to hear her out. "Everyone says the Knight-Commander's gone crazy. Are you still behind her?"

He sighed and pinched his brow. "The people ask too much of her. She needs a spine of iron to survive her position. I have seen madness before. I saw Uldred's eyes when there was nothing human left in them. The Knight-Commander... she is not there yet, but I do not have to ask where the rumors come from."

"So, if it comes to war with the mages..." Hawke wondered at the worst possible scenario. "whose side do you think the grand cleric will take?"

"She is bound by faith and duty to support the templars. We have dominance over the mages by divine right..." he said mechanically before pressing his lips together as if he just then remembered who he was preaching to. "But it is cruel how she leads them on, letting them think they might have a chance at rebellion."

How little he knew. The rebellion had already begun. It was happening everyday under their noses. She was a part of it, her live in boyfriend the ring leader. She held her tongue, knowing it was pointless to argue further. "I hope you find the bastard who is using his authority to rape teenagers." With that, she spun on her heel and left him.

Outside her front door when she returned home, there was a gathering in the courtyard. Standing atop one of the pedestals jutting from the Keep's stairs was Orsino. He had quite a crowd stirred up as he spoke. "I know you fear us! Knight-Commander Meredith uses that fear to take control of your city! She opposes every effort to replace Viscount Dumar, and you have seen the chaos of her reign. Will you allow it?" There was a murmur that broke over the listening crowd.

Before the murmur could grow, a gaggle of templars led by Meredith pushed through the crowd. "Return to your homes. This farce is over," she shouted.

"Wait!" Orsino insisted. "Perhaps there are some who might disagree with you, Knight-Commander." His eyes flicked to Hawke where she stood in the crowd.

"Do not hide behind the Champion. She has no role in this," Meredith disagreed.

"Sounds like you two have quite the little argument going," Hawke said, moving through the crowd to the opening made by Meredith and her people.

"This is not an argument," Meredith disagreed. "It's treason."

"I think the Champion's views would be appreciated," Orsino smirked. "Or do you fear what she has to say?"

"I fear nothing," Meredith scoffed. "My only interest here is in keeping order and protecting the innocent."

"Maybe you two should wrestle," Hawke suggested with sarcasm. "Because there's no other way to resolve this."

"You are naive, Champion," Meredith accused.

"You will find that not everyone bows to your will, Knight-Commander," Orsino growled, coming down from his platform and joining them.

"My, my, such a terrible commotion," a familiar soft voice broke through the crowd.

When the Grand Cleric flowed into sight, Meredith pounced. "This mage incites rebellion, Your Grace. I am dealing with the matter."

The revered mother glanced around Meredith to Orsino and tsked. "Oh, Orsino. So frustrated. Do you think this is truly wise?"

Orsino balked and hung his head. "I... no, Your Grace."

"Of course not," she smiled gently and then addressed the templars that followed on Meredith's heels. "Young men, would you show the First Enchanter back to the Circle? Gently, if you please."

"Your Grace!" Meredith spat. "He should be clapped in irons, made an example..."

The Revered mother cut her off, waving her hands emphatically. "That's enough, Meredith. This demeans us all. Surely you can see that? Go back to the Gallows and calm down. Like a good girl." Meredith sneered, but she spun on her heel and stalked off toward the Gallows. The sigh that escaped Elthina was heavy. "You have my thanks for stepping in, Champion, If you had not..."

"Short of putting those two in cells, I doubt anything will keep them from each other." Hawke was just as frustrated.

"Sadly true," Elthina agreed reluctantly. Then she moved ahead of Hawke and addressed the crowd. "Gentle people of Kirkwall... return to your homes, I implore you. This will not be solved today." The crowd began to disperse and Elthina sighed again. "Now I must attend to the Gallows. They will see reason, if the Maker wills it. Thank you again, Champion."

The city was getting worse. Especially with Meredith running it. Something drastic needed doing. The question was, what? She headed into her home with a sigh and was greeted with the gruff growl of Anders as he scolded Merrill up on the balcony. He had been getting increasingly twitchy and reserved as of late and she was beginning to worry. Whatever he was up to, she would need to pry answers from him soon. "For the Maker's sake, draw the curtains!" he hissed, grabbing the drapes that seperated them from the Arenbergs and their nightly escapades in the bedroom, and yanking them closed, the setting sun disappearing from the room and draping them in darkness. Hawke blinked to adjust her eyes as he continued. "Do you know what could happen if the Knight-Commander's spies catch two apostates talking?"

Merrill cocked her head and her large eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "No, what?"

Anders pursed his lips and glared at her. "No wonder the demons found you such easy prey," he growled. Merrill's mouth opened slightly in shock, but then her own anger flared as she pressed her lips together and returned the sour glare. She brushed past him and met Hawke's eyes before moving past her as well to leave the mansion. Hawke got the distinct impression that Merrill had come to see her about something important, but at that moment, she had to deal with Anders. She approached him with a blank expression, sniffing out his mood as she found herself doing more often than not in the last few months. He scoffed angrily, waving a dismissive hand. "Her ignorance will be what draws the templars down on us."

Instead of starting an argument, Hawke moved closer to him, fishing in her pocket for the small gift she had gotten crafted for him. "Well, if you're really worried about the templars, have I got a deal for you..." She pulled open the thin chain and draped it over his neck, letting it dangle over his clothes.

He glanced down quizzically as he lifted the key between his fingers and studied it. "What is it?" he asked, one brow rising in question as he lifted his eyes from the shining necklace.

"This key opens the cellars below the house here. You can get in from Darktown... if you ever need a quick escape," she shrugged as if the gift were no big deal, but she had noted the ever increasing quick flashes of Justice whenever someone would burst through the door of the clinic. He was nervous and with Meredith aware of them both, every mention of the woman made him angry. Hawke was toeing a thin line of his sanity and every little bit helped.

He diverted his eyes completely from the key, gripping it in one hand as the other reached up to brush her hair from her eyes. A smile broke through his mood and he said, "It means more than I can say to have had a partner these past few years. It makes me believe we can do anything."

Hawke smirked, pressing herself closer to him. "Merrill's gone. Is this the best you can think to do?"

His own smile shifted to a devious smirk and he closed the distance between them. His lips were heated as they met hers, his body still coming down from the rush of anger at Merrill, his magic slipping through the cracks. She hummed against him, the warmth spreading out from his fingers where they gripped the back of her neck and played in her hair. He gently guided her backwards into the bedroom where he kicked the door closed behind him. He needed her. She could feel it in his urgency as he took control, moving her not to the bed, but turning them about and pushing her against the wall. She gasped gently as her back collided with the hard surface and with the small audible inhalation, he grunted and shoved his hips against her, lifting her to her toes so he could easily shift his lips to her neck and lift her arms above their heads, pinning her to the wall. Her heart raced as the hand not holding her wrists traced down her side and up under her tunic. In spite of the heat ebbing from him, his touch raised gooseflesh all up and down her, another tiny sound of arousal escaping her lips. He knew her every nook and cranny, and exactly where to touch to elicit such a reaction. It drove him wild, and she felt him deftly remove both her pants and his with the one free hand he had. Then that hand dipped between them, laced with electricity and he ever so lightly drug his fingers beneath her folds and sent a jolt through her body. A choked cry fell from her throat as she twitched, her arms jerking to be freed, but he held her fast against the wall. He pulled his hand back up and traced the tips of his fingers up and around her side, narrowly avoiding her one ticklish spot and making her stomach muscles flicker in anticipation as she inadvertently shifted to escape. He hummed a devious chuckle as her body reacted, reversing the caress of his hand to tease the spot again, never quite reaching it, but torturing her just the same. Her arms jerked again, but she felt his magic flare as he pinned her more tightly, not allowing her to escape. He abandoned the tease, his hand continuing up and around her body to press flat to her back between her shoulder blades, hugging her tightly to him. His own arousal slipped along her opening, her muscles clenching and her hips thrusting toward him. He denied her, hovering just outside as he tormented her with his lips against her neck so lightly that she felt his breath more heavily than the touch of them. Then, his tongue slipped out, tracing up her neck and then capturing her earlobe between his teeth. She groaned at the torture both between her legs and as he sucked at her neck. Between kisses, he growled in her ear, "Beg me, Hawke."

The tone in his voice caught her breath in her throat and she whimpered as he again moved against her, rubbing his length across her sex. "Sweet Maker, _please_!" she choked. He taunted again, another shift against her. "Andraste have mercy..." she was coming apart in his hands, completely at his mercy.

"You're asking the wrong person, love," he teased, realizing exactly the effect he was having on her.

Another gentle spark of electricity left his fingertips and traveled down her spine and she cried out, her legs lifting to pull him against her and the movement dragging him along her again. She watched his eyes close and he swallowed, holding himself together as she nearly flipped the tables. Her arms gave a jerk, but he had collected himself quickly and still held her at his mercy. She was dripping wet from the attention and she finally broke. "Please, Anders, I need you inside me. Please," she begged, her tone choked and breathy as she gasped around her arousal.

The soft two note chuckle plucked at her arousal as he pulled back to position himself to slip inside with the next thrust. "As you wish..."

Fireworks erupted behind her closed eyes when he slipped inside, trailing an electrified hand down her back and beneath her to hold her up. She whimpered and moaned as wave after wave crashed over her, clenching her around him as he caressed back and forth over that perfect spot. She was glad he was holding her up as he took his own pleasure at her reactions and the movement of her body. Just as her own wave of pleasure was about to fade, she felt him spill inside her and the twitch of his orgasm brought her all over again.

His grip loosened lightly on her wrists and she slumped against him, as his body pinned her to the wall. His now free hand snaked around her body and he held her against him to move them to the bed. He sat on the edge, her legs still wrapped around him and him still sheathed inside. She whimpered as the new position brought to attention the still ready hardness of him as it twitched. When she pulled back to give him a devious smirk and raised brow, he chuckled. "Warden stamina..."

She knew he could go several times in an evening, thanks to the additional stamina from the Joining, but he had held back from her that the ability was immediate. She pushed against him with a smirk, pushing him deeper and he cringed. "A bit of a double edged sword, is it?" she teased as he rode out the sensitivity of his first orgasm.

He hugged her closer to him, effectively pinning her from tormenting him again. "You will be the death of me," he confessed, his mouth caressing her neck.

 

They enjoyed their quiet evening and the next day when Hawke rose, he had already gone, likely to the clinic. She dressed and headed down to check her messages, finding three of interest. The first was from Cullen, informing her that his investigation had begun into which of his templars were guilty of the assaults behind closed doors. He also had some concerns that had been brought to his attention concerning Aveline and her leadership abilities. Hawke knew immediately where her first stop of the day was going to be. This was likely another bid by Meredith and her templars to take over the city. She had effectively planted herself in the Viscount's seat and was not going to hand it over easily. The second message was from the woman herself, sheepishly and grudgingly asking Hawke to pay her a visit on a matter inside the Circle. The last letter made Hawke do a double take.

_Dear Champion,_

_Please meet me in the Keep._

_-King Alistair of Ferelden._

What in the Maker's name did the King of Ferelden want with her? She folded the note and hurried to her room to get changed. She was heading to the Keep to see Aveline anyhow. Once she was dressed, she hurried through the basement for the Clinic and sent Orana with notes to Varric and Fenris. She felt the need to show up with an entourage, such as they were.

Once they were all together and standing outside the Keep, Hawke drew herself straighter and clenched her shaking fingers before pulling her mask in place. She had never met the King, but from what she understood, he was a fair sort and good at his job in spite of evidence to the contrary. She entered the keep to a rather upset Knight-Commander and a young blonde man decked out in shining armor sporting an amused smirk on his handsome face. His bright blue eyes studied Meredith as she raged. He crossed his arms and raised a single brow, his eyes flicking briefly toward Hawke as she approached. "Let me guess, that's your final answer?" he said smoothly in a sardonic Ferelden accent.

"Three mages have fled to Ferelden, and you have intervened to protect them as if it is your right to do so," Meredith growled, obviously not amused by his aloof attitude. "What other answer did you expect, your Majesty?"

He smirked and said, "A 'maybe' might have been nice."

Meredith sneered. "I do not deal in 'maybes'. I deal in cold hard facts, as should you. Perhaps when Ferelden next chooses a King, it will be one that takes his duty to the Maker seriously." With that, she rounded up the templars at her heel and stormed off, making the King sigh and turn his attention toward Hawke and her people.

"Well," he said, seemingly unphased by Meredith's insult. "That was awkward."

Hawke held herself stiffly, but she relaxed her tone and tipped her head slightly adding a smirk. "That's just Meredith's idea of Kirkwall hospitality."

The King snorted. "Really? Kirkwall brutality must rip the skin off your face, then," he mused.

The man who stood beside him had a serious expression about him and before Hawke could say another word, he said, "This is the Champion of Kirkwall."

The King flicked his eyes from her to the man and back again, his eyes widening in shock, just as Hawke narrowed hers. The King had pegged her the second she stepped in the room and now he was playing dumb. Whether it was malicious or otherwise remained to be seen and she allowed him to feel her out. He was a King after all. "Right!" He extended his gloved hand in her direction and began to babble. "I'm Alistair, uh... king of Ferelden. And this is Teagan." He indicated the other man, and Hawke realized that he was not being malicious, he was being coy. The way he made the title King sound as though he was using a lower case letter was something she would have to keep in mind. "My uncle. Sort of."

The older man rolled his eyes as the short handshake concluded and Hawke took her heavily armored arm back. "I'm _actually_ Teagan. I'm only sort of his uncle."

Anders stepped up to Hawke's side and smirked, addressing the King. "Say... weren't you a Grey Warden once?"

Alistair looked up and the impish grin that replaced the look he had gotten as Teagan corrected him made Hawke decide that she liked this man. "That's the rumor.." Then the grin widened as he apparently recognized Anders. "Wait... weren't you?"

Anders matched the smirk and crossed his arms. "That's the rumor."

"Huh. I guess we get around," Alistair said with a shrug. Then he set his gaze back on Hawke and his tone went just about as serious as she thought he could get. "I was hoping we could talk. Would've been better timing before being emasculated by Meredith, but I'm not picky." He shuffled his feet.

Hawke drew her lips back and crossed her arms. "Things are looking up! It's not often I get called on to meet with foreign leaders." Whatever he wanted, it couldn't be something small if he'd personally come North.

He nodded. "I know you came here from Lothering. A Ferelden refugee that did well for herself, against all odds. I have to admit, I was hoping your influence in Kirkwall might be of use. Things... haven't been going well with Orlais. Without a Viscount here, however, there's only the Knight-Commander to deal with..."

"You were having an argument about mages?" Hawke asked with curiosity.

"Yes, well apparently I don't feel the same way about mages as the Chantry does. So we're in disagreement. That means they get nasty. They're like that," he shrugged.

Hawke couldn't have agreed more. "Sounds like the Circle is better off in Ferelden," she mused. If the King was that sympathetic, his influence in Kirkwall could be a major help.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he said with a sigh as Anders shook his head sadly beside her. "Sadly, I don't control the Circle. I can only deal with mages outside the Circle... of which there aren't many."

Hawke shook her head. "Aren't they in your Kingdom? Why not just kick the Templars out?"

The King actually snorted and then barked out a short one note laugh before saying, "Easier said than done."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Anders chimed in.

"Perhaps some things are better left alone," Fenris disagreed. Hawke's shoulders slumped as she braced for an argument in front of the King.

Before Anders could argue with Fenris however, Alistair raised a hand. "We'll see what comes of it. Ferelden had a Blight to contend with, remember? We're not exactly at our strongest."

Hawke nodded. "A lot of your people fled to Kirkwall, you know."

"I know," he sighed regretfully. "I wish I could have helped them. The Blight devastated the Kingdom, and afterwards... well, it hasn't exactly been peaceful. They're welcome back, of course. As are you. But after so many years away, would you still consider it home?"

Hawke immediately shook her head and glanced back at her friends to smile warmly. "Kirkwall is my home now."

"I understand. Ferelden's loss," he said with a smirk. Smooth King.

Hawke found herself wondering about what he had said about Orlais. "Is there to be a war then?"

His eyes widened. "I hope not!"

"You're more optimistic than I am," Teagan grumbled.

Alistair turned narrowed eyes on his 'sort of' uncle and stammered quickly. "Empress Celene is doing her best. Orlais isn't the most stable place right now."

"What's happening in Orlais?" Hawke asked, not having heard much news of other countries lately.

"Oh, the usual," Alistair shrugged, his armor clanking. "Attempted assassinations, uprisings, fancy parties with stinky cheeses. Apparently, some Orlesians think it would be grand to get their lost province back."

"Well, we won't let them swoop down on us, will we?" Teagan asked the King.

Alistair smirked as some memory crossed over his expression before he said, "That's right. Swooping is bad."

Hawke steered the conversation back to Kirkwall and why the King was there. "Hypothetically speaking, you could fix the no-Viscount situation." She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. He had the power to appoint someone, or even to throw his support in with a candidate. It would knock Meredith right out.

Varric added his two cents, making her eyes widen. "It's not a terrible idea, really. A lot of people would benefit from Hawke running this town."

Teagan raised a brow and crossed his own arms to sneer at her. "That's asking a lot."

Did he think she meant herself? Maker, she wasn't even close to suggesting that. She tossed a questioning look at Varric, her eyes still bugging out of her head, and he shrugged. Alistair's piercing eyes gave her a once over, barely even lingering over her scar where most people paused and frowned. Then he scratched his chin. "It's tempting. But I'm sorry to say that my support won't mean much without the support of the Templars." He sighed heavily. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I was hoping to have your help before Meredith got wind of my arrival, but that's done now." Then he took a single step closer to her. "What you _can_ do is protect Kirkwall. It will take someone like you to keep it from falling apart."

"Just me standing between the city and disaster, huh?" she said with a wistful eyeroll.

"I've been there. Trust me, it isn't pretty," Alistair agreed with a smirk of his own. "Well," he turned to Teagan. "I suppose we should be getting back.

"We should," Teagan agreed. "The Hero of Ferelden should be back in Denerim by now."

Alistair rolled his eyes and offered Hawke a parting smile before saying to Teagan as he walked off, "You're always so formal. She has a name you know."

Hawke turned on Varric when the King had left the Keep and set a questioning look on him. "What was that all about?"

"Oh come on, like unseating Meredith and taking the power to control the Circle isn't what you two have been dreaming about for years. I've been everywhere in your house, Hawke. I've seen the Manifestos," Varric said teasingly.

"That doesn't mean I want to be Viscount!" she hissed. "There has to be a less insane route to take."

Varric shrugged. "I still don't think it's a terrible idea."

Hawke grumbled her displeasure as she stomped up the stairs toward the barracks to see Aveline. She passed the locked throne room which had been collecting dust ever since her battle with the Arishok. She shuddered at the thought of having to hold 'court' in the place where she had betrayed herself. She could never be Viscount. When she reached Aveline's office, there was a templar there, making himself rather irritating if Aveline's expression was to be believed. "You have no Viscount," the drab looking man reitterated. "It's clear you are suffering without... sufficient leadership."

Aveline scowled. "That doesn't grant default authority to you or your Commander," she growled.

"It would be easier if you cooperated," the templar sighed with an air of superiority.

"Wouldn't it," Aveline agreed with sarcasm, crossing her arms and clearly dismissing the man.

Her bright green eyes stared him down and he finally nodded, glancing toward Hawke briefly. "Guard-Captain."

When he was gone, Aveline stood from her chair, shaking her head and balling her fists on the top of her desk. "Trouble?" Hawke asked softly, placing herself on the edge of the desk.

She was there to discuss the letter she had gotten from Cullen regarding Aveline, but approaching her with accusations that were obviously unfounded was not what should be done in Aveline's current mood. "Yes!" Aveline stood straighter and shooed Hawke automatically. "He's been hounding me. These Templars strut around as it is, but now its just... out of hand."

Hawke picked up a small knick knack that she had never seen before, steadfastly remaining seated on the desk. "He could be fishing for a less strenuous position here in the Barracks," she said with a shrug.

"Well, he won't be getting one from me," Aveline growled and rounded the desk to take the knick knack back and return it to it's place, leaving Hawke's hands free to pick up a stack of reports and carefully flip through them.

"That's not what Cullen has heard," she led carefully as Aveline sighed and flapped a dismissive hand at Hawke's fidgeting.

"What are you talking about?" Aveline asked with a frown.

Hawke set down the papers and sighed. "Word is, you're coddling your men. Playing favorites."

Aveline's expression turned hard and Hawke stood from the desk, fighting the urge to drag a barrier up around herself, her hands up defensively, telling Aveline she knew it wasn't true. "And you believe this?"

"Someone does. Enough to write the Knight-Captain," Hawke explained.

"Then let me give them, and you, an answer. If they think I'm coddling anyone, it'll be my husband, Donnic. You and I will intercept his patrol tonight. Then you can see for yourself if I'm coddling him. Or any in my Command." Aveline said with a mildly hurt look at Hawke for being the one who laid this accusation at her feet.

"Well, I could do with a breath of fresh air," Hawke agreed, reaching around Aveline to re-center the knick knack before patting her friend's shoulder.

"You'll be lucky if you have time," Aveline retorted. "You'll see. No one questions me or my men. Donnic's patrol, Hawke. Me and you. Tonight."

Hawke left Aveline with one last smile that she tried to convey her apology with. If she ignored the accusation, it would likely get out of hand. Better to nip this before it got worse. As they left the Keep, Hawke cringed as she realized she had one last stop to make. She stopped along Viscount's Way and turned to place a hand on Anders' chest. "Maybe you should head back to the clinic. I shouldn't have dragged you out for this silly meeting."

His confused look at being stopped turned to pursed lips, crossed arms and a frown. "Where are _you_ going?"

His expression dared her to lie to him and she bit her lip. "I was asked to come to the Gallows. Meredith wants to see me about something."

"No," Anders shrugged her hand off of him. "Did you really think I would let you step foot in the Lion's den without me? This could be a trap, love."

"That's what Varric and Fenris are for. They won't let Meredith arrest me," Hawke almost pleaded. With the state he'd been in lately, Hawke was surprised that he had been able to see Meredith in the Keep and not go all Justice-y. She had noticed him spiraling.

"I'm going with you," he said with a finality that made her sigh and turn away, not having the fortitude to argue any further.

"Mustn't keep Meredith waiting. Tardiness could be a crime now, for all I know."

 

Hawke had never entered the Gallows through the front door before. It made her uneasy to have the eyes of all the tranquil following her as she crossed the Courtyard and headed up the stairs into the Templar's wing. The eyes of the templars inside was even more disconcerting and she lowered her own gaze, never before feeling the need to be as small as possible. It was a strange feeling. Meredith's office stood down a narrow hallway across from First Enchanter Orsino's. Hawke hesitated before knocking, feeling wary about the complete lack of templars in the hallway. Meredith's voice answered her crisply when she finally allowed her knuckles to rap softly on the door. She pushed into the office and was unsurprised to see a very spartan living quarters. The room stunk of Lyrium and her skin hummed with the proximity of the singing stones. Meredith turned to see who had entered and a brief look of shock passed over her face before she pressed her lips together. "Champion, welcome."

Hawke forced a diplomatic smile and felt her companions falling into a semi circle at her back. As Meredith eyed her entourage, a particular interest in Anders making Hawke even more nervous, Hawke said, "Always a pleasure, and may I say that outfit was a wise choice?"

She nearly slapped herself, cringing as her default sarcasm leaked from her nervous lips. Meredith chose to ignore the feigned pleasantry and sighed, waving for Hawke to follow her back out the door and further down the hallway to an open door at the end. Inside was a small indoor garden with several benches that all sat unoccupied except for a single one where a young woman sat, her expression vacant of emotion as she watched the exchange. Meredith had begun to speak as they walked, explaining with precision the reason she had brought Hawke there. "There was an incident within the Gallows. A number of phylacteries were destroyed and several mages took the opportunity to escape. We've recovered most of the fugitives. However, I require your assistance in tracking down the last three."

Hawke frowned, knowing that the Underground had not been in the Gallows for months at least. "How did the phylacteries get destroyed?"

Meredith sneered. "An insurrection. Several of my own templars orchestrated the escape, presumably out of sympathy for the mages. Hawke found it difficult to control the smirk of victory that attempted to break free of her mask. "They turned their backs on their duty and endangered their charges, as well as the city. Thankfully most who escaped fled to their families and offered no resistance. The last three are proving more... difficult."

Hawke crossed her arms. "Since you're turning to me, should I assume the templars all suddenly disappeared?"

Meredith looked away with what Hawke interpreted as shame before sighing. "The apostates are being sheltered by their families. Some have been reluctant to talk to templars, but you are another matter." It looked painful for Meredith to admit her next confession, but she pushed forward. "The people of Kirkwall trust you, Champion. They will be more honest for you than for us."

Hawke sighed. Perhaps if she found the apostates, she might be able to find a way to convince Meredith that things had been taken care of and they wouldn't have to return to the Circle. She dropped her arms to her sides and said, "I'll see what I can do."

Meredith let loose her own sigh. "I am relieved. I was expecting resistance after that debacle at the Market. Talk to these mages' families, learn where they are hiding and find them before they do harm. You will see that imprisonment or death is sometimes the only kindness we can offer." Hawke found it increasingly difficult to bite her tongue and she could feel the tension oozing from Anders. "Speak to my assistant, Elsa," Meredith indicated the, until then, silent tranquil sitting on the bench. "She can tell you whatever you need to know about the fugitives. I bid you good day, Champion."

With that, Meredith disappeared and the tranquil stood to approach them. "Good Day, Champion of Kirkwall," the girl said mechanically with a short bow of her head. "Knight-Commander Meredith has informed me that you will be tracking down the apostates on behalf of the templars." Hawke pressed her lips together yet again to refrain from blurting the sarcastic remark that would go straight over the tranquil's head. "There are three of them. Huon, Emile and Evelina."

"Are the apostates blood mages?" Hawke asked straight off the bat. It was vital information.

Elsa tipped her head. "The Knight-Commander suspects this, yes. The Knight-Commander tends to assume all apostates practice Blood Magic. She prefers to err on the side of caution."

To prevent the eyeroll that attempted to break her facade, Hawke said quickly. "I want to hear about Huon."

The girl rattled off a list of facts about the apostate and Hawke listened closely. "Huon is an elf. He was apprehended in the alienage ten years ago. His wife, Nyssa, works for a dressmaker in Lowtown."

"Have the templars spoken to her?" Hawke wondered aloud and the tranquil answered.

"Yes. Nyssa insists she has not seen Huon since he joined the Circle."

"Could Huon be hiding among the other elves in the Alienage?" Hawke asked.

"The templars' searches uncovered nothing. The templars have also concluded that few other elves would risk hiding him. Huon was taken many years ago. Most of the Alienage's inhabitants do not even know him," Elsa explained in the monotonous tone that was slowly putting Hawke to sleep.

Hawke nodded and moved forward. "Tell me what you know about Emile."

"The second apostate is Emile de Launcet, fifth son of the Comte de Launcet." Hawke nearly groaned. She knew the De Launcets and always loathed any social gathering that involved having to see them. "The De Launcets have a home in Hightown, but are often out during the day. They are generally home by evening."

"What have they said to the templars?" Hawke asked with less curiosity than she had with Huon. Any son of a De Launcet was not likely a blood mage.

"The comte and comtesse say they have not seen Emile since he was a child."

"What do you know about the De Launcets?" It never hurt to know more than what you might learn at social gatherings.

"Comte Guillamme De Launcet is a minor noble from Orlais. He and his wife came to the Free Marches over three decades ago. Emile was born in Kirkwall, and sent to the Circle at age six." Elsa's monotone was beginning to give Hawke a headache as she listened to the dull facts and tried to avoid staring at the brand on her forehead.

"What do you know about Evelina?" Hawke asked finally.

"Evelina was trained for eight years in the Circle in Ferelden. She was last seen in her former residence among the refugee community in Darktown."

"Did the templars run into her in Darktown?" Hawke asked as the words 'last seen' drew her attention.

"Yes. They tracked her there, but she killed several pursuers. The templars believe she is the most dangerous apostate."

"How did she come to be in Kirkwall?" Hawke wondered. How had she escaped the Circle in Ferelden?

"Evelina claims to have fled the Blight, not the Circle. She presented herself to the First Enchanter upon her arrival and asked to take her place here. Our files indicate she petitioned Meredith for financial support of numerous other pre-adolescent Blight survivors."

Hawke held up a hand and offered a wasted smile. "That was all I needed. Thank you, Elsa."

Elsa bowed her head and said, "Good luck on your search, Champion of Kirkwall."

When Hawke turned away from Elsa, she nearly collided with Anders as he stood stock still, glaring at the tranquil. His barely contained rage washed over her as she took his hand and nudged him toward the door. This was definitely not the place for him to wig out. When he didn't move, she grunted and softly spoke his name. "Anders." When he didn't respond, she spoke more sharply, gripping his chin in her fingers. "Anders! Time to go..." His eyes finally flicked back to her and she saw him shake off the flash of Justice that turned the honey irises briefly blue. "Alright, love?" she said through gritted teeth.

She noted him straining to focus on her and to his credit, he pointedly fixed his eyes on her and did not return his gaze to the tranquil. "Yes. Let's get out of here."

 

It was mid afternoon when they got back across the water to the docks from the Gallows. Hawke had needed to talk Anders down on the ferry ride back as he ground his teeth and Justice raged about the gall of Meredith to have a tranquil assistant to rub in their faces. Varric and Fenris gave them their space, but she noted Fenris' intense and diligent watch.

"I'm going to start in the Alienage since it is the closest. Nyssa should be at work, so I can catch her out in the open," Hawke said as she led the tense group through Lowtown. She was throwing out a steady stream of mana to ground Anders back in his own skin. If she didn't think he might storm the Gallows solo, she would have sent him home, but he needed her.

When they made their way to the Alienage, she spotted the seamstress' stall, manned by a single elf. She made a beeline for it, and paused before the rows of silks and cloths. The elf looked up from what she as doing to set a friendly smile on Hawke. She was young and thin, her large eyes almost too large for her face with the pulled back style of her muddy hair. Hawke returned the smile and the elf spoke. "Greetings, messere! My mistress is away, seeing to a customer, but she will be back shortly. I can take your measurements if you wish to have a dress made."

To break her own nerves, Hawke continued to smile and said dramatically, "I'll only wear dresses that are absolutely festooned with ruffles."

The elf cocked her head, uncertain if she should be taking Hawke seriously. "Perhaps it is best if you wait for my mistress..."

"You could tell me about your husband, Huon. That would be helpful," Hawke suggested casually.

A look of realization crossed the girl's face and she sighed. "When the templars came, I told them the truth... I hadn't seen Huon in ten years. But after they left, he... he came to me. He wanted me to hide him." She moved to lean against the side of the stall as she recalled the encounter. "I used to dream of him returning. But not like this. He's changed, and I don't know him anymore. I sent him away."

"How has Huon changed?" Hawke asked softly.

"He was obsessed with showing everyone true elven power. He frightened me," she confessed.

"Did you see him use any magic? Perhaps blood magic?" Hawke wondered carefully.

"I... I don't know. I don't think he used magic on me," she said, hanging her head.

The answer to her next question made her cringe. "Did he hurt you?"

"Only broke my heart," Nyssa said softly, shaking her already hung head.

"So you hadn't seen him since he left you?"

The girl suddenly turned defensive, her tone sharper. "Huon didn't leave me. He was taken away." Hawke knew better and she bit her lip in apology. "When the templars found out he was a mage, they chained him and dragged him from the alienage, in front of everyone. Now I'm trapped in this... this sham. Married, but with no husband, and no future." A tear glistened in Nyssa's eye and Hawke felt her own anger swirling before she could shove it back down.

"Good riddance," Hawke said bitterly. "You don't need to be tied down to some man." It was an awful excuse for cheering up, but it was all she could muster.

"If he had been himself, I would have taken him back gladly! B...but Huon said he would return to take me away from this forever."

"Empty promises," Fenris grumbled.

"I don't know what he means and I am afraid of him, messere," Nyssa confessed, moving from the stall post and pacing nervously.

Hawke scoffed as best she could. "Don't worry. He probably means to carry you off into the moonlight on the back of a horse."

Nyssa finally smiled, even if it was slight. "I think whatever he is planning is much more sinister. Huon said he would come to the Alienage soon, at nightfall. Are you... are you going to arrest him? I think he needs help. Maybe the Circle will be able to heal whatever troubles him."

Hawke promised to return at nightfall and headed toward Darktown while it was still daylight. The small section of Darktown where the refugees, so down and out that they couldn't escape, still camped was riddled with beggars and less than savory types. Evelina had to be around somewhere. Near the outskirts, Hawke noticed a group of young children huddled around a fire. An older boy than the rest seemed to be attempting to keep the younger ones corralled. One of the boys, no older than eight with bright red hair spotted Hawke coming toward them and scurried behind the oldest. Upon further inspection, they were all filthy and likely starving. The eldest stood up, Hawke pegging him at about fourteen. He eyed her suspiciously as the red head hid behind him and the others scattered. He had the beginning wisps of facial hair and in spite of his age and height, he drew himself taller and said with a crackling voice. "We got nothing here you'd want. Get back to Hightown and leave us alone!"

Hawke knew this wasn't her target, but he was likely the best shot she had at finding the woman she sought. "You're a little young for a blood mage, and I thought Evelina was a girl's name."

"I'm not Evelina. I'm Walter. Evelina was our... friend. She was our mother," the boy offered easily. "Evelina found us when the Darkspawn came, when our parents died. She made sure we got to Kirkwall safely."

"I miss her," the other young boy said softly from around Walter's elbow.

Walter wrapped his arm around the other boy and continued. "But when she went to join the Circle here, they called her apostate for leaving the tower in Ferelden. They locked her up."

"Do the templars know you're here?" Hawke asked, wondering if there was something else she needed to bring to Cullen's attention.

"They don't care. They only want Evelina," Walter snapped angrily.

"Didn't she want to stay free, with you?" Hawke wondered. There were plenty of stories in Ferelden about the injustice of the Kirkwall Circle. Why had Evelina turned herself in?

"She didn't want us to be stuck in Darktown. She wanted to give us a real life," Walter said sadly, glancing around at the muck and grime of the filthy streets around them. "She thought the Circle would help her, but they just locked her away."

Hawke scoffed. "What was she expecting? 'Welcome! Here's a bag of gold for your urchins'?"

Walter growled. "You think we deserve to live like this? Evelina just wanted to give us the lives we would have had at home. But when she came back to us, the templars followed her."

The younger boy came from around Walter, his blue eyes wide. "The templars made Evelina angry. They made her change... It wasn't her fault! When it was over, she was ashamed. She ran into the tunnels and hid."

Walter gasped. "Shut up, Cricket! Don't tell them that!"

"Evelina's in the sewer tunnels?" Hawke asked with urgency.

Walter panicked. "You can't go there. She'll know we told you and she'll be angry at us!"

"Angry?" Cricket squeaked. "I didn't like when she got angry. We-we have to hide!" He turned and ran off.

Walter shouted after him and gave chase. Hawke had what she needed and headed for the tunnels that Cricket had sped toward. It was likely this was the same set of tunnels that Evelina was hiding in. Nightfall was pressing in on Hawke and she hoped that it didn't take too long to track down Evelina. She still needed time to get back to the Alienage and see if Nyssa's fears had substance. She followed the tunnels, hunting for any sign of the kids or of Evelina.

She panted as she rounded yet another corner and spotted Walter and Cricket standing close together and looking all around. "What are you doing here?" she asked in suspicion.

"I... I thought if we warned her about you, she wouldn't be angry. But then she..." Walter began, his confession cut off by a sing song voice from the shadows.

"Walter..." a woman's voice taunted eerily.

"She's coming! Run!" Walter said in a panicked tone, practically shoving Cricket toward what might be an exit. Ahead of them, a woman about Hawke's own age appeared, her arms outstretched, a creepy grin across her face.

"There you are. Don't run from me, Walter. You know those are the rules..."

Hawke immediately felt the sticky feel of blood magic filling the tunnel. "Funny," she mused, drawing the abomination's attention to her and away from the children. "In my house, we always felt running away from violent madwomen was a good thing."

The woman sneered at her. "These are my children. You and your kind abandoned them. You're Ferelden, like us, but you feast on sweetmeats while your people starve in the Undercity. I spit on you, traitor, and on the pathetic templars that sent you." Hawke refused to be cowed as the woman began to shudder and twist into the demon beneath her skin. She had sacrificed everything she had to be where she was. It pained her that she couldn't help everyone, but she did everything she could. "Kirkwall should be mine! Then my children will have a whole city to play in!" The twisted abomination growled and glowed with magic.

Even with the shades she summoned, the abomination was no match for Hawke and her friends. The boys cowered in the corner until Hawke cut down Evelina with the blade on the end of her staff and the body fell and then exploded. Walter sheepishly moved from their corner, Cricket clutching to him in terror. "I don't understand," he whimpered. "Evelina loved us. She saved us. Why would she try to hurt us now?"

"She went insane," Hawke grunted. "Looking after ten children will do that to a person." Then she shrugged. "Or it could have been the demon."

"You didn't have to kill her. There must have been another way," Walter almost sobbed.

Anders stepped up beside her and spoke passionately. "This isn't going to stop! The templars force our hand. They make us take drastic measures just to be free."

"Like Evelina did?" Walter asked softly.

"Exactly," he growled, a flash of Justice flickering over his eyes as he turned away from the boys to move back behind Hawke.

Her heart clenched as Walter sighed. "I just don't know what we'll do now."

Hawke yanked the purse from her hip, unsure how much she had stuffed into it before leaving the house that morning, but the boys and the other scattered children that Walter was looking after deserved it. "Take this, and use it wisely," she said pointedly, closing Walter's hand over the heavy pouch.

His face lit up in hope and she made a note to have a chat with some of her contacts and see about placing the children with families as they had with Terri's baby. "Thank you, messere." he turned to Cricket. "I should go buy some food for the others. They've been hungry for a long time."

 

Hawke growled in agitation as she arrived seconds too late to save Nyssa. "She was so beautiful," the elf hovering over her leaking corpse said with what sounded like regret.

Hawke clenched her fists. This assignment was turning into a fucking disaster. "Someday, I'd like to go one week without meeting an insane mage. Just one week," she grumbled as Huon turned his attention on her and his milky demonic eyes blazed in victory.

"I am a visionary. I've seen our destiny. I know what fate holds for the elves," he preached, making Hawke think he should have a chat with Merrill. Speaking of which, she needed to visit with Merrill. She hadn't returned since Anders had chased her off. "The humans keep us down because they're afraid of the magic within us." A flash of red broke the darkness in the Alienage square and Hawke drew her staff, readying for the fight she knew was coming. "Look at the magic Nyssa held inside her." The girl's blood rose from the stab wound in her gut and began to swirl around Huon, mixing with his mana and bringing forth the nasty feeling of walking through spider webs. "She was just afraid to use it."

"It's always the same. Always," Fenris sighed and Hawke was loathe to agree.

Huon stood and drew a staff from his back, red blood and mana flowing freely around his hands. His skin cracked and red shone through. Two shades manifested from the ground beside him and before he could sic them on her and the others, she cast a crushing prison around him and then twirled her staff to bring a charge to the chain lightning. More shades popped up around them and her friends were scattered to deal with them while she poured fire into the cylinder of magic around Huon. The shades he'd summoned outlived him as his charred body fell to the ground beside Nyssa. Fenris lunged to cut down the final one that was making a beeline for Hawke.

In spite of Nightfall, it was still early and Hawke shoved her anger down deep and headed toward the De Launcets' estate, resisting the urge to kick Huon's corpse into the bay. She was never doing a favor for Meredith again. She never should have done this one if she were being honest. As she knocked at the door of the estate, she ignored the fact that she was likely covered in the blood of both Evelina and Huon. Maybe it would work for her to cow the De Launcets into telling her where Emile was.

A tall, hoity butler answered the door, his nose firmly in the air as he, without a word, ushered them into the foyer. Then he stopped them, standing steadfastly in the entryway, closing his eyes and folding his hands behind his back. Hawke tipped her head in curiosity as he simply stood there, silent as the dead. She was about to say something when he suddenly stepped to the side and a thin, painted woman in a fine dress and nicely coiffed red hair was standing behind him. Hawke blurted a greeting. "You look lovely tonight, my lady." Let her try and return the compliment in Hawke's state.

"Oh, you are too kind!" the comtesse sputtered in a shrilly dignified orlesian accent. Hawke was amazed that she was able to pull off the combination. "I am so honored to have the Champion in my home!" She shooed the butler and waved Hawke to follow her. "I will call for refreshments." As they passed into the sitting room, she jumped her shrill tone up a few octaves and called for her servant. "Tallia!" When no one appeared in fifteen seconds, the comtesse sighed and shook her head. "She is so slow, this girl. Come, let us chat while we wait."

Hawke was offered a seat near the fire and the comtesse sat down across from her with a small table between them. "You're extremely cheery for a woman whose son is wanted by the templars," Hawke said bluntly.

"Emile? Oh, yes! The templars were asking about our poor boy recently," the woman said, her tone never changing. "I haven't seen Emile since he was taken to the Circle. He was just six. You can tell the templars not to worry. I'm sure Emile will turn himself in soon. He's a good boy."

How could she know that if she hadn't seen him in years? Hawke pursed her lips. Before she could ask any more questions, a voice came angrily from behind her. "Dulci! What have you done? You should have told the boy to throw himself at the mercy of the templars!" Hawke watched the comtesse's face fall as she quickly covered it up with wide eyes.

"Guillame, darling..." she said urgently, her eyes flicking toward Hawke as the comte approached.

"Don't 'darling' me, Dulci! He's been telling people he's our son, that you gave him gold!" he raged, coming into view on Hawke's right side.

"Guillame, darling..." she attempted again. "We have guests!" But the damage was done.

Hawke smirked and picked up the drink that had just been brought to her by the 'slow' servant. "Don't stop on my account, this is fascinating."

The comtesse flushed red, her cheeks darker than her hair and waved a hand, attempting to maintain her casual facade. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Champion! I... I barely saw Emile. I didn't think it was worth mentioning!" Hawke stood, ready to go wherever the woman pointed her and crossed her arms. "I gave him some money... not too much. He said he wanted to start a new life."

"New life?" the comte scoffed. "His new life is spent in Lowtown taverns, getting drunk on cheap wine. It's a wonder the templars haven't found him yet." He turned his attention away from his wife and pleaded. "Help us, please, Champion. Emile is not a blood mage, just a foolish boy. Don't let the templars kill him."

"Blood mage?!" the comtesse shot up from her seat as if she'd been stung and gasped in terror. "Oh, Guillame don't say that!"

The comte sighed. "Please, save my son's life."

Hawke smiled. "It looks like the comtesse is in greater danger of expiring at the moment."

"Yes," the comte agreed gently. "Dulci... she's... er, high-strung. An acquaintance spied Emile in the Hanged Man not long ago. He should still be there."

The comtesse's face went ashen as the comte took her shoulders in his hands. "The Hanged Man? Oh, but that place is filthy!"

"Come, Dulci, Perhaps you should lie down," the comte said gently as he led his wife off.

As Hawke made her way toward the door, Varric mimicked the comtesse. "Oh, but ze Hanged Man iz so filthy!" Then he chuckled.

"It _is_ filthy," Fenris reminded him as Hawke hummed her own amused chuckle and they headed from the mansion to the tavern in question.

Hawke was able to spot Emile almost as soon as she stepped foot in the Hanged Man. He sat at one of the back tables near the stairs, his forehead on the table and his arms wrapped around his head. The shock of red hair that ringed his scalp like a halo stood out along with his fine clothes. Hawke rolled her eyes as she approached him. "Emile de Launcet?"

His head shot up and he blinked furiously at her, his eyes crossing and uncrossing as he attempted to focus on her. "Wow..." his expression turned into a leer and Hawke crossed her arms. "Are you... are you a mage? Because you just magicked my breath away," he said tittering at his own awful pick up line.

"You need more practice with women," Hawke sighed, feeling sorry for the poor bastard.

"Can I practice on you?" he giggled. "In private?"

"Can I kill him yet?" Varric asked. "He's hurting me."

"He's lived in the Circle all his life," Anders explained. "He can't function in the real world."

"Round of drinks on me? I'm Emile, as you know... And you are?" he asked Hawke.

"Feeling very sorry for you," Hawke sighed. "I'm also helping the templars hunt a mage named Emile de Launcet, and here you are!" She threw her hands wide in victory, smirking.

He stood from his chair, nearly tripping over it's legs and wobbling dangerously. "Oh, buggery! I know what this is about. I... I'm not a blood mage, all right? I, uh, started that rumor because... because I thought it might make me sound dangerous and... suave."

"Do you have a death wish?" Anders asked angrily. "You grew up in the Circle. You know what the templars do to blood mages!"

"I've only told people in the tavern... and only women," he explained lamely, hanging his head. "You don't understand. I've been in the Circle since I was six... Six! For twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, or... or cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain, or kissed a girl..."

"The Ferelden Circle's more fun," Anders chimed in. "Everyone was kissing everyone. Though that was before the abominations."

"I just wanted to live a little," Emile confessed. Then he sighed. "If you're going to kill me, do it. I'd rather die drunk."

"Did you really escape the circle so you could kiss a girl?" Hawke asked in disbelief.

"Well, not just that. I've read so much about the other things you can do with girls..." His cheeks flushed and Hawke felt her mouth fall open.

"This is an act," Fenris inserted. "The mage makes himself out to be harmless."

Anders covered a snicker as he said, "No, I think he's really that pathetic."

Hawke was with Anders. Handing Emile over to Meredith was the worst idea. It would lead to him being made tranquil for no reason at all. She rubbed her forehead against the headache she was getting and remembered that she still couldn't go home after this. "The comtesse gave you the money so you could get out of Kirkwall. Stop wasting it."

"You'll let me go?" he gasped.

"I can tell the templars you're dead, but you have to leave now," she scolded.

He nodded slowly. "I... I think there's a ship leaving port tonight. I'll find my way onto it. Thank you. I'll find some way to repay you someday. I promise."

As Emile left, Hawke dropped into the chair he'd been sitting in. "Maker's breath..."

Varric nodded his agreement. "Meredith certainly made this an interesting day."

"Interesting is not the word I would have chosen," Hawke said, waving for a drink. "Apparently the crazy in this city is contagious."

"And Meredith is the source," Anders agreed, sitting down beside her. "You look exhausted, love."

"It's just a headache. I need to go with Aveline in less than an hour, so a drink will have to make it all better," she sighed.

"I could..." Anders began, his hand igniting blue as he offered her some healing magic.

She smiled at him and lowered his hand with hers. "Save your mana. We might need it. I have a feeling we're going to find Donnic neck deep."

"You don't believe the rumors?" Fenris asked, turning a chair and straddling the back to sit across the table from her.

Hawke snorted as her drink was set down before her. "When has Aveline ever slacked off? I think her honeymoon was her first vacation since her last honeymoon."

 

Hawke happened to be right. When they came upon Donnic on the docks, he and his partner were surrounded by at least a dozen raiders. More were dropping in from the warehouses surrounding the tiny alcove where the two guards were cornered. Hawke and the others took the raiders by surprise, breaking their ranks as they funnelled in from behind. The surprise sandwiched them between her small party and the two guards who fought vigorously in spite of being outnumbered. When they met in the middle over the pile of raider corpses, Donnic offered her a smile and a tip of his head. "Serah Hawke! Or is it always 'Champion' now? You're too much of a chameleon, my friend."

She returned the cheery smile, catching her breath and brushing muck from her arm. "I didn't expect to find you so... deep in bandits."

Aveline harrumphed from her side and Donnic frowned gently as he looked from her to his wife and back again. "A good day, to be sure. I'll be sore tomorrow, but it was my choice." He glanced back at Aveline. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"It's all right. Go ahead," Aveline urged.

Donnic shifted and clasped his hands behind his back. "Every guard chooses the patrol they want. My wife promotes from the bold, not the reckless. Action is up, casualties are down. It is... remarkable." Then he glanced at Aveline and offered her a short smile. "As are you, love."

She smiled gently. "Thank you. That will do," Aveline said and glanced at Hawke, her brows up in question.

"Another time, Serah Hawke. Safe travels," Donnic said, he and his partner leaving the alcove to continue on their patrol.

"That should be sufficient. Take that to the Templar," Aveline said grumpily.

"Indeed," Hawke said. "Let's go talk to Cullen."

 

The sun was coming up as the ferry docked at the Gallows. Hawke was ready to drop and as soon as she spoke to Cullen and Meredith, she was going home to take a very long nap. Cullen cringed as she approached with Aveline, the glare on her face apparently not as hidden as she had hoped. "Champion. And you are with the Captain. None too happy about the accusations against her. I'm sure."

"You could say that," Aveline agreed, rubbing her own brow.

Hawke stepped closer to Cullen and almost snarled. "I have successfully wasted my time and there is no merit to the claims."

Cullen held up his hands defensively. "As I suspected."

"Then why press this?" Aveline asked, her shoulders slumping.

"Some feel that the solution to the current crisis of leadership is to... consolidate authority," his own lip curled up in anger. "As long as the complaints continue, baseless or not, they will serve as justification for eliminating the position of Guard Captain. It would be the simplest fix, whether or not I agree."

Hawke sighed. "Just point me in the right direction and I will get you some peace and quiet."

He let out his own frustrated sigh. "I have no answers for you other than to say that all of the complaints have come from Lowtown."

"Guardsman Brennan is on that patrol. Why wouldn't she tell me of this?" Aveline wondered aloud.

"I don't know, but... I do apologize for the assumptions of this incident, Guard Captain," Cullen said with genuine regret. "It has been... unfortunate."

"It's not done," Aveline said with a sigh and Hawke offered Cullen a thankful smile that never made it to her face. In the middle of the Gallows courtyard, Aveline turned to Hawke. "Go home and get some rest. I might need you tonight when I confront Brennan."

"I have one last thing to handle and I am going to do exactly that," Hawke agreed, patting Aveline's shoulder.

She and her group made their way back inside the Gallows for the second time in as many days and Hawke shuddered, suddenly cold. She hated it in this building, the constant humming of lyrium grating on her nerves as she approached Meredith's office. The woman pounced almost as soon as Hawke stepped foot in the room. "I am led to believe both Huon and Evelina are dead. Unfortunate but necessary. It seems, however, that we have still heard nothing of Emile de Launcet."

"Emile was killed," Hawke said without hesitation.

Meredith frowned and moved to put her desk between them. "Yet we have no body? No witness to a battle? Most curious." She sneered. "Regardless, your part in this is done."

Hawke was not going to be dismissed quite so easily. She crossed her arms. Whether she felt the need to say it for herself or she was just so tired that she wasn't thinking straight, she looked Meredith Stannard dead in the face and said, "The blame for everything these mages did can be laid at your feet. Look at the way you treat them! Is it any wonder they're so desperate?"

Fenris grunted and took her bicep in his hand. "You don't think the mages are even a little responsible for their crimes?"

"I have heard this argument often," Meredith said with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. " 'Maybe they are not corrupt', 'maybe they deserve leniency', 'maybe they can be saved'." She was pacing, then she leaned down, placing her hands flat on the desk and hanging her head. "There are maybes enough to fill half the graves in Kirkwall. I will not add more to the pile. Enough, I have not the patience to argue with you further." She turned her back on the room to stare out the small arrowslit window behind her desk that over looked the main hall of the Circle.

Hawke knew she was dismissed. She dropped her arms and left the office, her blood boiling.

"That was bloody brilliant, back there," Anders said to her after they had settled onto the ferry.

"It was bloody insane," Varric countered. "Are you feeling all right, Hawke?"

"I'm fine. I just really hated how everything went down last night. Then she had the nerve to question me to my face after she was the one who sent me afer those people to begin with..." Hawke let out a frustrated grunt. "It didn't make me feel better to know that two out of three escaped mages proved her right."

Fenris harrumphed but remained silent and Anders sat down beside her, his arm snaking around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder and the rocking of the ferry nearly lulled her to sleep before he said, "Let's just get you home. We'll talk about it later."

 

Later came after they discovered that the unrest in Lowtown was not coming from the guard, but from the former Guard-Captain that Aveline had replaced. He had stirred some mercenaries and thugs to his side and tried to stir the guard as well. Brennan explained that she had done what she had because she felt sorry for Jeven and the lack of sympathy inside the ranks. Aveline set Jeven right and the guard rallied around her. Hawke and Anders walked hand in hand toward the clinic early evening. She could tell his mind was on something besides healing magic and she squeezed his hand gently. "Copper for your thoughts?"

He gave her a half smile and sighed nervously. "I'm... going to be trying something, and I thought you'd want to be part of it." When she urged him onward with her gaze, he opened the clinic doors and guided her inside with a hand on the small of her back. He locked it behind him and did not turn on the lanterns. "We've both been wrong," he said dramatically. He took her hands in his and continued. "What I did with Justice was unnatural. It should never have happened."

She frowned, wondering what he was getting at. "Is there some way to undo it?" Her heart gave a leap of hope.

"I've spent the last three years researching the methods of Tevinter Magisters. They're the only ones who have ever sought to reverse spirit possessions, not just behead the victims," he explained gently. "I believe I have a formula for a potion that can separate Justice and me. Without killing either."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked. Just because it didn't kill either of them didn't mean it wouldn't have other nasty side effects.

"There are always dangers with magic," he reminded her, lifting their hands and linking his fingers with hers. "But I believe this will be worth the cost."

"That was going to be my next question," she said with a hysterical chuckle. Could this be their chance to live normally? She wouldn't have to worry about where she was taking him and who was likely to be there that might trigger Justice. Her hands started to tremble in his.

"I knew you'd be behind me in this, Even if..." he cut himself off and her spark of elation died as she figured out he was hiding something from her.

"What?" she asked carefully.

"Nothing," he said a bit too quickly for her tastes. He dropped her hands and moved toward his desk to shuffle through some papers. "I've gathered most of what I need, but there are some... outlandish ingredients I was hoping you'd help me collect." He squinted at the paper and read off what he was missing. "A powder the Tevinters call 'Sela Petrae', and a small amount of Drakestone."

Hawke crossed her arms and moved closer to him, cocking her hip. "Is it just a potion? Is there anything more to this ritual?" Is that what he wasn't telling her? Tevinter was famous for it's blood magic after all.

He shook his head vehemently and crossed the empty space between them to retake her hands, prying them from their pockets behind her elbows. "No, no ritual. Just mix the ingredients up and... boom. Justice and I are free. And we can take our rightful place among free mages."

"We're not looking for virgin's blood or the tongue of a Hanged Man or anything, are we?" she mocked, trying her best to figure out what exactly he could be hiding from her.

He snickered, pulling her head against him to kiss her forehead before saying. "Well, you know Tevinters. They can't throw a Wintersend party without a human sacrifice or two. But I promise, everything in my research says there's no blood magic involved."

Hawke nodded, taking him at his word and wrapping her arms around him for a hug. Drakestone she had heard of and was certain that they could get it at the Bone Pit. "So what the heck is sela petrae anyhow?" She took his list from him to pour over it briefly before the took it back and tucked it back under some things on his desk.

"Right," he said hesitantly. "It's a crystal that forms from concentrated manure and urine..."

"Ew..." she cringed. "We can't just... buy it somewhere?"

He smirked at her expression. "It's not used by mages here. There's no reason for any merchant to stock it... I suggest we search the sewers. There's an entrance not far from here."

She cocked her head and her lip curled upwards. "When this is all over with, I'm not kissing you for at least a month." Then she turned and swayed toward the doors. "Let's get this over with." She would do anything if it meant he would be free of Justice.

 

"The things I do for love," she mused as she held the small vial between two fingers and studied the disgusting contents. He chuckled as she set the vial down on his desk and brushed her hands together and then rubbed them on her clothes. "So, we're not due at the Bone Pit for a few days. Can it wait that long?"

"Of course, love," he agreed. "I want to spend a few hours here. You go on ahead and take a break." He pulled her into a gentle kiss before shooing her with a wide grin on his face. An expression she hadn't seen in ages.

She decided to visit Merrill in her free time, still feeling bad that she had yet to do so. She let herself in like she usually did at Fenris' mansion and heard voices in the bedroom. "Come on, Daisy. You've been holed up in here for days. If you don't get some sunshine, you'll wilt," Varric said scoldingly.

Merrill came back with an irritated tone. "I'm not a plant, Varric. I'm fine."

Hawke followed the voices and saw Merrill standing in front of the eluvian and Varric a good distance back, trying to coax her away. "Just take a walk around the Lowtown Market. Get some air, and I'll stop bothering you."

"I..." Merrill sighed. "know you mean well. But I have too much to do right now."

"I'll let you talk some sense into her, Hawke," he said waving his hand in dismissal and shuffling out, mumbling to himself.

"Varric is..." Merrill turned to move away from the mirror and speak to Hawke. "very sweet. Frequently infuriating and a terrible busy body, but sweet. Were you looking for me? Nothing's wrong, is it?"

"I'm sure something is wrong somewhere in Kirkwall, but right now, it can wait," Hawke mused, tipping her head in invitation for Merrill to tell her whatever was on her mind.

"And I'm being a poor host, as usual," Merrill sighed. "In the Market the other day, out of the corner of my eye... I thought I saw Lyna. I blinked, and she was gone." she moved to sit on the bed. "I don't know what it meant. Maybe nothing. Maybe I'm going mad. I miss them all. Even the Keeper."

Hawke chuckled. "You miss Keeper Marethari? Are you feverish? Did you take a blow to the head?"

"I must have!" Merrill agreed with a small smile. "I even miss her scolding me. I wish I could have seen... It doesn't matter. I'm here now." She stood and with resolve said, "Maybe Varric was right. Shall we go out for a bit? I could use some sunshine."

Hawke nodded and smiled, letting Merrill gather her cloak before they headed out together. Something else was clearly bothering Merrill, but Hawke had found it best not to push when it came to the elf. She would likely blabber it out eventually if Hawke gave her the chance. They waded though the Alienage and up toward the Market. There wasn't much sunshine at that time of day, but the air was crisp and fresh. Hawke found that she was breathing it in a little heavier than usual herself and trying to put her fears for Anders out of her mind.

After a brief stroll in silence, Merrill sighed. "Lethallan, I need to ask something of you... I thought the arulin'holm would be the last thing I needed, but the eluvian still won't work. I think..." she sighed again, her breath puffing out before her. "I think I have to go back to the... spirit that helped me at the start of all this."

"What do you mean it doesn't work?" Hawke wondered. Merrill had said before that she wasn't certain what it was supposed to do at all. How did she know it wasn't working?

"Well... you saw it! Do you think it's supposed to sit there and show nothing at all?" Merrill asked hesitantly. "I can feel the power in it, but it's... like it's asleep. I can't seem to wake it."

"Why do you think the demon will help?" Hawke asked with a sneer and calling it by what it was.

"He knows about the mirror. I don't know how much. He wouldn't tell me everything, and it's dangerous to trust... He said he witnessed it's forging. He told me how to cleanse it of it's corruption. He must know how to make it work."

"Nothing bad ever comes from summoning demons!" Hawke said sarcastically as she pulled Merrill to a less crowded avenue.

"That's why..." Merrill fidgeted, wringing her hands nervously. "Why I need you to come with me. I've called to the spirit, but he doesn't seem to hear. He was sealed in an artifact on Sundermount. I have to look for him there." She paused again and set her puppy gaze on Hawke. "But... If things go wrong... if he possesses me... I need you to strike me down."

Maker, she was serious. Hawke felt her jaw drop slightly as she gaped at Merrill. "You want to summon a demon that may possess you, then have me kill you! How is that a plan?" Hawke nearly shrieked, barely keeping her voice at whisper volume.

"Please, do this for me. There's no one else I trust..." When Hawke still set a skeptical look on her, Merrill pleaded some more. "I need you, Lethallan. I'd never forgive myself if someone else got hurt because of me."

Hawke was still hesitant. "Go to Marethari. Maybe there's an alternative to summoning the demon."

"The Keeper would never help me! Why do you think I had to find the demon in the first place?" Merrill argued. "The whole clan has moved on by now anyway. You'll never find her."

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. To keep Merrill safe, she would go with her to Sundermount. But she didn't want to have to slit the throat of one of her best friends. "Just so you know, I hate this plan."

Merrill pulled Hawke into a grateful hug. "Ma serannas, Lethallan. You don't know what this means to me."

 


	19. For Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke does some favors for all of her friends.

That was how Hawke found herself the next day, yet again trudging up Sundermount with Varric and Anders lagging behind and hating the plan as much as she did. "It's not a good feeling you know," Anders said somberly.

"What?" Merrill asked with venom, apparently still sore with Anders.

"Being an abomination. I got a taste of your future," he explained.

Merrill pursed her lips. "I'm not that foolish. Our relationship is, um, strictly platonic."

Anders ignored her attempt at humor. "It's like you're trapped in your own body, seeing out your eyes while someone else moves you like a puppet. And you're trying to scream, to move a single muscle, but there's no escape. Until you look down at the blood on your hands..."

"Stop it," Merrill said, her voice wavering. "You're scaring me."

"That's the point," he grumbled. Hawke slowed and fell back to take his hand and squeeze it gently. Soon, with any luck, he might be free from ever being a puppet again.

Merrill frowned as they came upon the Dalish encampment, still very much in the same place. She avidly avoided the camp, skirting the Keeper's aravel and heading directly up the path toward the burial ground where they had released Flemeth. When she didn't so much as pause to see the Keeper, Anders became agitated. "I don't know why I'm bothering with this, but you do realize this is crazy, right?"

"Believe me, I noticed," Merrill said flippantly. "If I had any other choices, I'd take them."

"You have choices! You always had choices! Stop using blood magic! Get rid of that damned mirror!" he listed.

Merrill paused on the path and hit him with a sarcastic tone that Hawke didn't know she had in her arsenal. "In that case I'll head back to Kirkwall and throw it away. Right after you abandon the plight of the Circle mages."

Anders pressed his lips together and Merrill nodded triumphantly before continuing upwards. Hawke and Varric followed behind them, feeling rather awkward. They made their way up the Mountainside in silence, again taking the detour around the rock slide and through the mountain. Hawke was grateful they were not set upon by spiders this time as they exited on the other side. She remembered the beautiful sunset she had watched the last time they had climbed this high and inhaled a deep breath of the thinning air. The mountain was quiet, unlike the last time when they had to fight through undead. Merrill paused at the altar where they had freed Flemeth and began to pray. "Mythal, all-mother. Protector of the people. Watch over us, for the path we tread is perilous. Save us from the darkness, as you did before, and we will sing your name to the heavens." She was quiet for a moment and then turned back to Hawke. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hold us. You just... It's never wise to ignore Mythal."

"If she's temperamental, maybe I should join you," Hawke said, forcing joviality into her tone.

"It wouldn't hurt," Merrill shrugged with a stiff smile. "They say if Mythal smiles on you, then you need fear nothing at all. But those who anger her, they're struck from the earth... as if they never lived at all!"

As they continued further up the mountain, Varric cleared his throat. "Does anybody else get the feeling that this is going to end badly? Just me, huh?"

"It's not all bad, Varric," Merrill said cheerily. "Think of the stories you'll be able to tell later!"

Varric chuckled dryly. "No offense, Daisy, but I could live without telling anyone we murdered you on some mountainside. It's a little hard to make that one sound good." The heavy silence fell over them again until they neared the peak and Varric made Hawke jump as his voice startled her. "Who thought putting a demon in a cave on Sundermount was a good idea in the first place?"

"Where would you have put him?" Merrill asked in true Merrill fashion.

"Tevinter, maybe. Or in the Anderfels. Further away from Kirkwall, that's for sure," Varric shrugged.

There wasn't much mountain left, so Hawke assumed they were nearing the summit and the cave where the demon was waiting. The strange thing was that she had yet to feel the inky and heavy feeling that accompanied demons. There was not even a hint of the wispy spiderweb sensation that stemmed from blood magic. Something was amiss. Merrill led them to the end of the path where a cave loomed. The opening was large enough for two people to walk abreast. She was frowning, her large green eyes suspicious. Hawke didn't need to ask what was the matter as they entered the cave and approached a large golden idol that stood from floor to ceiling of the cavern. Wild sprouts of Felandris grew around it's feet, but Hawke could tell that if something had been here, it was gone. "Something is wrong," Merrill confirmed. "This is where the spirit was bound. But now, it feels... empty."

"Maybe it freed itself?" Hawke suggested, knowing that was unlikely.

"It would have taken powerful magic to break him free of this prison," Merrill pointed out. "You couldn't just set him loose. Nobody could. Not without doing something terrible. This is very wrong."

"Who bound this demon here, and why?" Hawke wondered. How had Merrill even found it?

"There was a war, long ago," Merrill began. "Between my people and the Teviner Imperium. After the Magisters sunk Arlathan, my people made a last stand here, fighting on the graves of our elders. I don't know if it was the Elvhenan or Tevinter who bound the spirit, but he was left here from the war."

Hawke grunted, not liking her next wonder. "How are we going to finish the mirror now?"

"I don't know!" Merrill gasped. "I don't understand what's happened. How can he be gone?"

"I happened..."

Everyone spun around to see Keeper Marethari standing in the entryway to the cave. She had to have seen them passing by and followed them up to the cave. Merrill pushed past Hawke and said, "Keeper, what have you done?"

"The demon's plan was always for you to complete the mirror. It would have been a doorway out of this prison and into our world. You would have been his first victim," The Keeper explained. "I couldn't let that happen, da'len."

"You didn't think to mention that the demon was gone before we hiked all the way up here?" Hawke asked bitterly.

Marethari hung her head and moved to the side, away from them. "It's not gone." Merrill's expression went frightened as Marethari continued. "I couldn't fight it in the Fade while it was trapped. And I couldn't banish it without making it stronger. So I made myself it's prison. Kill me and it dies too. Merrill will finally be safe."

After burying her face briefly in her hands, Merrill shouted. "No! You can't ask... I won't do this!"

The Keeper turned on Merrill, speaking with a cold and bitter tone. "You always knew your blood magic had a price, da'len. I have chosen to pay it for you." She spoke two final words as magic began to seep from her pores and she began to transform. "Dareth Shiral."

Merrill reacted, even as her eyes bugged from her head. She drew her staff and began to cast as the Pride demon took form. Hawke noticed the shades all around, imitating Merrill's clan members and taunting as they fought, hoping to shake Merrill. When the demon realized that it was not working, it turned it's attention to Hawke, the scar on her arm blazing as it tugged on her blood. "How many glib words have dribbled from your lips, all testament to your cleverness? Every one has fed me..." he said with a triumphant chuckle as Hawke cringed against it drawing on her.

If it was drawing from her, it was weakening. She shoved the sticky feelings away and attacked with renewed vigor, shoving the demon back with her physical magic. That opened up an avenue for Anders to erect a wall of ice between it and them and keep it from stepping on them in the small space. It roared in anger at the spikes of ice jutting up around it. The earth began to rumble under her feet and she realized that Merrill was casting an earthquake spell. She back stepped out of the way before she was knocked off her feet and laced Merrill's spell with flames that traveled along the rippling stone and ignited beneath the demon. It wailed in anger and disappeared behind Anders' ice wall. A soft whimper filled the cavern over the crumbling rock. Merrill drew back her spell and Hawke followed suit. Hawke shattered the ice wall with a hasty stonefist and Merrill ran to Marethari's side as the Keeper dropped to her knees. "Da'len?"

"Keeper!" Merrill whimpered, fussing over the bloodied and singed body of the Keeper.

"You've beaten it, da'len. You are so much stronger than I imagined. The demon is dead."

Hawke was already shaking her head before the Keeper even finished her sentence. "Keeper, I..." Merrill began.

"Let's leave this awful place. The clan should hear the good news," Marethari interrupted.

Hawke felt herself hum in disagreement, her staff still firmly clutched in her hands. "You told us that the demon was bound to your life. It would only die with you."

Merrill already had a dagger in her hand and she said softly, "Ir abelas, Keeper." Without emotion, she jabbed the dagger into the Keeper's gut and then backed away, getting to her feet as the woman's lungs gasped for air around the blood frothing up from her throat. When she died, her body lifted in an arc and a bright flash of light signaled the demon's death as well before Marethari fell still. Merrill dropped the dagger and moved to kneel at her mentor's side. "Keeper!" she whimpered. "What have you done? I don't want this..." her words were dissolving into sobs as she bent and laid her head on the Keeper's body. "I never wanted this. Creators, please let this be a bad dream. I'll wake up and feel like an idiot and she'll scold me for not listening..."

Hawke moved to stand beside Merrill. "Getting possessed never helps anything," she said softly.

"Tell me about it," Anders grunted under his breath.

Merrill sat up. "If she hadn't been so stubborn... If she had listened to me! She never believed in me... I..." Merrill stood and wiped her eyes. "I should go to the clan. Someone needs to know, needs to come... take care of her."

Hawke wrapped a comforting arm around Merrill's shoulder and began to lead her from the cave. Just outside, a few of the clan were already waiting with accusatory epressions. "We know the Keeper came here," one of the men said. "What's going on? Where is she?"

Merrill stepped out from under Hawke's embrace and swallowed. "Fenarel, the Keeper, she..."

"Look at her Fenarel!" a nearby female hunter pointed angrily. "She's covered in blood."

"What have you done, Merrill?" the male growled. "Keeper!" he shouted around them. "Can you hear me?"

"She's dead," Merrill squeaked.

"I should have guessed you'd turn on her, you monster..." the woman crossed her arms and nearly spat her words.

Hawke stepped forward, her best diplomatic tone in place. "This was a tragedy. I promise you, I'll make sure no one else is hurt by Merrill's blood magic."

"You expect us to take the word of a shemlen?" the woman growled, turning her ire on Hawke.

"Stand down, Eneria," Fenarel sighed. "She was our first once... The Keeper loved her. More than she loved the clan, it seems."

"Fenarel, I'm sorry," Merrill said, her voice cracking. "I never wanted this. If I could have saved her... If I could have died instead. I would have."

"Words are cheap. That you're still breathing says enough," the woman snarled.

"Enough, Eneria," the man repeated. "Human, take Merrill away from here."

With that, the rest of the clan turned from them and headed down the mountain. Merrill whimpered and Hawke returned her comforting arm to her shoulders as they followed. "They'll never forgive me," she realized as they passed by the camp to icy glares. "If you weren't here, Hawke, they'd kill me."

 

Hawke knew that in essence, Merrill had just lost what she considered her mother, in spite of their differences. She also knew what it was like to lose your mother. She wanted to comfort Merrill, but what Merrill needed was time. Hawke wasn't certain what Merrill might do now that she had no way of repairing the eluvian, nor anyone to turn to who might know anything about it. So when they returned to Kirkwall and Merrill expressed an interest in being left alone, Hawke allowed her to go to her home.

She, Anders and Varric went to the Hanged Man where they shared a few drinks. Hawke couldn't seem to shake her nerves over the whole situation, so instead of sitting sacked in her chair as she usually did, she paced by the hearth, thinking about the demon's words. "You're making me nauseous, Hawke. Will you sit down for Andraste's sake," Varric implored as Isabela sidled up to see what the fuss was about.

"You're wound up tighter than an Anitvan whore's corset, poppet. What's going on?" Isabela said with a smirk.

Hawke dropped into her seat and Anders' palm immediately found her thigh, shifting a soothing bit of mana into her so she would take a breath and calm down. She tossed him a thankful smile as Varric relayed the story of what had happened on the mountain with much less whimsy than his usual retelling of their antics. Hawke thought she didn't even sound fat in this version and she felt her lip tip upward in a smirk. "Poor Kitten," Isabela lamented as Varric finished the telling.

"It was definitely not our finest hour," Hawke agreed, feeling as if she had failed her friend. "I'm starting to think that the only family any of us is meant to have is each other."

First had been Bethany and Wesley, Varric's brother, then Carver and her mother, then Fenris' sister, now Merrill's clan. Even Sebastian's entire family was gone. Isabela snorted. "I'll take you lot over my real family any day."

"Cheers," Varric agreed, holding his drink aloft.

"Oh, are we toasting something? What did I miss?" Merrill's voice startled Hawke into turning to watch her approaching from the door. There was a tentative smile on her face.

Isabela patted the seat beside her and said, "We were just discussing how we've found family in each other. I'm sorry to hear about what happened, Kitten."

Merrill sat down and shook her head. "I can't spend my life worrying about something I can't change."

"Speaking of family, I should check on Uncle Gamlen," Hawke mused.

Isabela perked up. "Did you ever find out what a wallop mallet is?"

"I completely forgot!" Hawke gasped as Isabela reminded her of the incident over the Gem of Keroshek.

"Well, go find out and meet us back here. I'm curious to see where this scavenger hunt leads," she said, shooing Hawke.

Hawke stood and left Anders with a kiss. "This shouldn't take long. I usually get kicked out before I can even drink my tea."

 

Her Uncle went off into a tangent about the game of Wallop and how his mallet was special because it had been made from a branch of the Vhenadhal Tree in the Alienage. She endured learning the rules of the game and his insistence that it was the last time he was ever good at anything. After a while, she politely excused herself and wandered back to the Hanged Man where the others were still waiting.

Merrill was plastered and Hawke explained what her uncle had told her. Near the end of her telling, Fenris wandered in and sat with them. "I'm not sure where to go with the clue," Hawke admitted.

"Maybe you should go to the Tree," Isabela suggested. "Maybe there is another clue there."

Hawke looked Merrill up and down and nodded. "We need to get her home anyway."

They all piled out of the Hanged Man and headed toward the Alienage, Isabela practically carrying Merrill. Isabela sighed. "You all go on. I'll make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit."

"I promise if we find the gem, I'll credit you," Hawke assured the pirate thankfully.

They gathered around the massive painted tree and stared up at it. Varric grunted. "Well, we found the tree the Wallop mallet's made from... now what?"

An unfamiliar voice joined the conversation. "Wallop mallot? You must be the one I'm supposed to give this note to." An elf stood from where he had been sitting on a crate near the tree and approached Hawke to hand her a small piece of paper.

"This person is like an underpaid brothel wench. He enjoys leading us on," Hawke mused as she unfolded the note.

"I was given a few coins to hand this over to whoever came asking about Wallop mallets," the elf shrugged. "Unfortunately, the person was hooded, and it was dark. I didn't get a good look. Obviously a human though. No mistaking that. Even hooded, you all look alike."

Fenris stood near her elbow, reading over her shoulder. "A warehouse, now? We're being played with."

"Smetty's Fish Guttery... charming. Well, I have nothing else planned. Let's go see if we can find out what Uncle Gamlen is in to," Hawke sighed, crumbling the note.

They made their way to the docks and the warehouse in the note. Inside, Fenris shuddered. "Fish, fish, and more fish... ugh. Let's just find those crates."

They searched the entire warehouse, Fenris getting greener by the minute, until they found the shipment number from the note. "1023... this is it," Hawke said, glancing around. "Something seems off..." She gingerly began to lift the lid of the crate and a soft click made her drop it back down. "It's a trap!" She backpedaled away, covering her mouth and nose as a gaseous substance began to leak from the crate.

Anders grabbed her arm and tugged her further back, his barrier slamming up around her as dizziness threatened almost instantly. It was some sort of knock out poison. They were set upon by a number of mercenaries that seemed confused that they were not gathering up an unconscious Gamlen. She shook off the mild effects of the small amount of poison that had gotten into her lungs and met the onslaught. When the mercenaries were defeated, she hung back to clear the air with her magic as Anders searched the bodies for orders. "So they were to capture Gamlen and take him to the caverns? Sounds like the opening to a bad romance story," he mused, handing over another note to her.

Hawke knew the caverns the note was talking about. "It's time to end this charade."

 

They trekked out to the caverns and Hawke realized that from the lack of giant spiders and other nuisances, that the cave had been cleared out. They moved slowly, Varric in the lead to make certain they didn't find any traps. When they entered the largest cavern where old stacks of smuggled goods had been forgotten, a woman greeted them. She looked to be a few years younger than Hawke, possibly the same age as her siblings would have been. She had long brown hair that framed a pretty face. She wore simple leathers and a bow was strapped to her back. "So, Gamlen couldn't even be bothered to come himself? I should have expected he'd send you, cousin."

Hawke frowned as Anders gasped. "You have a cousin?"

"I have a cousin?" Hawke repeated, looking over the girl again and suddenly seeing a small familial resemblance. The only cousin she knew she had was the Hero of Ferelden. If Anders didn't know this woman, she was obviously not _that_ cousin.

"Gamlen never told you? I..." She seemed hurt, but a scowl crossed beneath her bangs before she continued. "Of course he didn't... Why would he?"

A slew of questions entered Hawke's mind, but before she could voice them, someone else entered the cavern, flanked by several armed men. "Sorry to interrupt this touching family reunion, but we have unfinished business here."

As he approached, the girl looked surprised. "Veld? What are you doing here?"

He glanced over at Hawke and his eyes narrowed. "Mekel is dead. _That_ bitch killed him!"

"What's a Mekel?" Hawke intoned, quirking a brow.

"My brother!" the man shouted, getting irritated at her disrespect. "Mekel was my brother, and you killed him!"

"That doesn't make sense," Hawke's 'cousin' said in exasperation. "Mekel was just supposed to hand over the note!"

The man's attention turned to her and he scowled. "You really think we didn't read it? We know about the gem, Charade. Hand it over. I won't let Mekel's death be for nothing."

Charade snorted. "You let your brother go up against someone like Hawke for a stupid gem?" She shifted her stance and her hands twitched. "You know what, I did find the gem, but you're not getting your pathetic little hands on it, Veld."

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way," he sneered, signaling the group he had at his heel.

Chaos broke out and Hawke and her friends were drawn into the fray. Anders thoughtfully covered Charade in the barrier that he had around the rest of them and Hawke called a firestorm inside the cavern. There was not much resistance, until she noticed Charade being led from inside the blaze as she plunked arrows from her bow, backing away from Veld. He bore down on her, her arrows bouncing off the scales of his armor. When he got to her, she abandoned the bow and drew a pair of daggers from her hips. He swiped his sword at her and she ducked out of the way, luring him back around and toward the firestorm. She had obviously realized she had protection. She boldly reentered the inferno and sliced at Veld as he followed. Hawke lost sight of them in the fire and when her spell petered out, Charade was standing over the dead man, one of her daggers in his throat. She looked over at Hawke and smiled, seeing that they were the only ones left. "You're pretty useful in a fight. You don't take after Gamlen at all."

Hawke nodded. "And I wouldn't have taken you for his daughter, what with being able to fight."

"I guess I should take that as a compliment," she said, leaning down to remove the dagger from Veld and wipe the blade on his clothes. "My mother, Mara... she left Gamlen before I was born. He was so fixated on finding that stupid gem, I doubt he even noticed she was gone. She told me about Gamlen before she died last year. I didn't even know about him."

Hawke sniggered. "Next time you want to talk to someone, maybe try knocking on their door first."

"Oh, yes, that sounds brilliant..." she agreed sarcastically. "Just show up on his doorstep and say, 'hi, I'm your daughter'. I doubt that would go over well." She sighed. "I just wanted to see... I don't know... how far he'd go for something he really wanted. And then he doesn't even show up. I baited him with the one thing I thought would get his attention."

"He's got some good qualities, you might be surprised," Hawke assured the girl whose expression was turning somber.

"Really?" she asked hopefully. "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should go talk to Gamlen. Does he even know about you?" Hawke wondered. If she hadn't known about him, maybe the stream flowed two ways.

"I... I'm not sure," she admitted, her expression twisting into a thoughtful frown.

"Having family might be more worthwhile than you think," Fenris said pointedly.

"Maybe give him a chance before you write him off," Hawke suggested.

"I think I will. Having a cousin turned out to be a good thing. Maybe having a father will, too," Charade tipped her head and smiled before leaving on her own.

 

The Bone Pit was utterly destroyed. Hawke stood at the path that opened out into the outer ledge where the men had set up their camp. There were charred corpses everywhere and small fires burned along the ground where bits of tent and other rubbish hadn't completely died out. This was no ordinary fire. Before Hawke could even point that fact out, a great bellowing roar sounded over head. "Dragon!" she shouted, as it flew up from the pit below.

"It's too close to the city, Hawke," Fenris warned as her first instinct to bolt washed over her.

Of course he was right. She watched the dragon swoop back down and determinedly took her staff from her back. They followed the path down into the gorge. Hawke stepped between two pillars at the bottom of the hill, hundreds of old, white washed bones crunching under her boots. Impossibly, she had lost sight of the Dragon until it flew back around and spotted them. It veered from it's course and dove toward them, a loud gurgling sound emanating from it's chest. "Scatter!" she shouted and adrenaline set her heart racing as the Dragon's flaming breath licked across her barrier. She reached deep and her magic responded. She needed to be away from the flames and she felt her mana drawing on the gloves that helped her harness frost. She Fade stepped from where she stood and shot across the pit, coming to a stop so far from her companions that she heard Anders shout, but could not see him. She saw the trail of ice that the spell left in it's wake and marveled. That was the first time she had ever been able to Fade step. It was both exhilarating and mildly nauseating. She had no time to be impressed with herself as the dragon came back around for another fly over. It had lost track of her, but she saw it heading where she assumed her friends were. She summoned her power again and aimed for the air in front of the dragon. Her physical magic acted like a glass wall, slamming into the dragon and dazing it. It immediately stopped flying and dropped to the ground, shaking it's head. It was enormous. Much larger than the other dragons she had fought. High dragons meant dragonlings. She tightened her barrier and felt Anders reaching out to find out where she was. She answered by channeling her focus and using it to miraculously Fade step again. She jerked to a stop beside him and he stared, open mouthed at her. "You just..."

"I know," she said excitedly.

He grinned and then suddenly they remembered the dragon still on the field. Fenris had charged at it and was hacking at it's hind legs with vigor, glowing a bright blue as he maintained his wraith form so whenever it tried to swipe at him, it's claws passed right through him. The dragon seemed to recover from the conk to the head it had taken from ramming into her spell and it twisted it's neck around. It spotted her and Anders and she threw up her hands as it reared back and the gurgle sounded again, signaling another burst of fire. The flames licked over the magic and sweat beaded on her skin as the heat threatened to be too much for her barrier. "Just a second," Anders said and she saw him casting out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly, the flames stopped short and she looked through the charred barrier to see the dragon retching like it had a hairball. It coughed up a great hunk of ice that had somehow lodged in it's throat. "That won't last forever," Anders warned.

"Clever," she praised him, dropping the barrier and preparing a slew of more magic that would deal damage to the dragon. They needed to kill it before they all ran out of mana and stamina. Fenris was not flagging yet, but even he had his limits. She drew in her magic and was about to manifest her spirit arms to challenge the dragon to a fist fight when a great gust of wind blew her off balance. She spun to see a pair of adolescent dragons flapping their wings as they landed in their midst, drawn by the screams of their mother.

Anders swept his staff in an arc and a wall of ice jutted up between them and the dragons. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure how to handle the extra threat. Just then, Varric reappeared and bolts from Bianca began to draw the smaller dragons off. "You handle the big one!" he called.

Hawke nodded and turned her attention back to the High Dragon. It was now wailing in pain as Fenris continuously hacked at it's one leg like a lumberjack. She noticed his marks flickering as he struggled to maintain his power and exert the physical strain of swinging the greatsword. To draw the dragon's attention off of Fenris so he could duck out and recharge, she returned to her initial plan. She pounded her fists together and drew her magic to the surface, her staff on her back. The large spirit arms formed as extensions of her person and she reared back and swung, connecting her right fist with the dragon's face. "Bring it on, you great menace!" she called as she swung with her other hand, this time punching up under it's jaw. Fenris dipped out of it's reach and nodded to her before his eyes widened and then he grimaced. She glanced to where his eyes were fixated and noticed half a dozen dragonlings skittering toward Varric. Fenris jetted across the field and she nudged Anders. "Help them."

"But..." he began to argue and she pressed her lips together and glared at him, rolling her shoulders and swinging at the dragon again.

"I've got this one," she insisted. The adrenaline of almost being seared by the dragon's breath had bolstered her mana and she felt fantastic. On top of that, she had successfully Fade stepped twice. When he still didn't budge she turned her gaze on him again. "I said, help them."

Anders' expression twitched briefly into annoyance before settling on adoration. "Be careful, love." Then he sprinted off to help Fenris and Varric.

The dragon stepped closer to her, having figured out where the blows were coming from. It swiped at her and as she ducked, she heard the gurgling rattle from it's throat that told her that Anders' ice spell had worn off. Before it could spit at her, she grabbed hold of it's neck with her spirit arm and squeezed her fist. The dragon heaved and pulled away, forcing her to let go or be yanked off her feet. She had delayed the fire breath, however, and it gave her a moment to cast a lightning spell that struck several points on the dragon's hide, but did little damage. Grumbling, she scanned her options. She needed to get underneath it where it was vulnerable. She also needed to be certain it stayed grounded. She hatched an idea and pulled several daggers from where she kept them concealed in her belt. Dodging another swipe from the dragon's front leg, she drew in her spirit arms and concentrated her physical magic on the blades. They lifted into the air and she jerked her head toward the dragon's membranous wings. The daggers cut through the thick hide, but not easily. The dragon roared in pain as the cuts began to bleed. The daggers fell to the ground as Hawke abandoned the spell, ducking beneath the dragon as it's head shot up into the air so it could wail. The sound was deafening and she spared a glance at the others who were still fighting off the smaller threats. At the dragon's roar. Anders faltered and glanced over to where she was. She saw the curse on his lips, unable to hear it over the cacophony of the dragon. Pulling her staff back into her hands, she flicked the dagger free at the bottom and implemented some of her footwork as she cast and slung spells in between dodging the dragon's bumbling footsteps as it tried to find her beneath it. Deep gashes began to open in it's skin where she ripped the blade through, backed by physical magic to intensify her strength. She worked her way back to where Fenris had left his mark on it's hind leg and jabbed the staff blade deep into the wound. She felt it cut through something important and the dragon lifted it's leg and shrieked before falling to the ground. It reached around with it's long neck, chomping at her from the ground. She whipped up her staff and it caught the roof of the dragon's mouth, discouraging further attacks from it's jaws. She caught sight of it's chest as it laid on it's side and she scrambled over one of it's legs to race toward the open spot. Then she jammed the blade of her staff into it's thick hide and summoned all the mana she had left. The lightning arched through the dragon, surging through it's heart. It's death shriek was cut off as the magic abruptly ended it's life. It's great head fell with a crash to the ground and then its tattered wings slumped. Hawke pulled her staff from the sizzling corpse and half climbed and half fell from her perch on it's bloody leg.

When her boots hit the blood slicked bones that made up the ground, her ankle twisted and she stumbled, barely able to catch herself with her staff before the world spun around her. She had used far too much mana. She closed her eyes and fumbled for the pouch at her hip where her potions were, but found it damp. "Well, shit," she cursed as she realized that somewhere in the shuffle, her glass vials had been shattered. She dropped to her knees and slumped forward, still holding herself aloft with her staff. She could still hear her friends battling the other dragons as her eyes fluttered and threatened to close. A loud battle cry from Fenris' lips jerked her back to reality briefly. "Anders," she called as loudly as she could.

It was no use. He couldn't hear her. She let her staff fall and it clattered noisily over the bones on the ground. The sounds of fighting began to ebb as she placed her palms flat on the ground and attempted to keep from lying down. Fingers patted at her cheeks and she jerked, realizing she had lost a moment. "Hawke!"

Her eyes flicked open and she saw Anders kneeling in front of her, concern etched across his face. Varric and Fenris stood at his back, both looking no worse for the wear. She lolled her head toward the dragon and said softly. "I killed a High Dragon."

A soft exhalation of amusement left Anders' nostrils and he patted her cheek again. "That you did, love."

"She needs lyrium," Fenris grunted. "But I'm spent."

"I have a potion," Anders agreed, removing one of his hands and allowing her head to slump forward, nearly dragging her limp torso with it. He juggled her and the potion momentarily until a shuffling to her right and then behind her drew her attention before the familiar press of Fenris' body against her back allowed her to relax into him. He supported her head as Anders tipped her chin and the metallic, earthy taste of lyrium cascaded past her lips. She swallowed greedily as the potion made it's way into her system. Fenris remained, allowing her to regain her senses as her strength and mana returned in harmony.

"Better?" he hummed, his green eyes glancing down at her with a smirk on his face.

She nodded as the world came back into focus. She took note of a set of scratches along his neck and then glanced to Anders. There was a burn mark on one of his legs and over his chest on the right. Varric also had his own collection of scrapes and bruises. "You all look like shit," she commented wryly as she sat up, fighting a short wave of dizziness that clung to her.

Fenris' chuckle rumbled through her as he released her and stood, limping slightly as he left Anders to help her to her feet. She fell into his arms and he sighed in relief. "When the last one fell, I looked for you and you weren't there..."

She indicated the pouch. "My potions got smashed and that last spell was a lot." She patted his chest where she found his heart racing. "I'm all right. Just tired... and hungry."

He snorted and pressed his forehead to hers. "I still have that sandwich you packed me."

"Let's get out of this pit and find somewhere that isn't on fire to sit... oh Maker's balls..." she grumbled.

"What?" he asked in concern.

"Hubert is going to have an apoplexy," she realized.

Varric chuckled and was the first to start toward the hill where they had entered. After they had all had a sit down and Anders had tended to all of their wounds, Hawke insisted that they still enter the mine and get the drakestone that Anders needed. She didn't want to have to come back here if she didn't need to.

 

After a very long and relaxing bath, she fell into her bed and huddled up beside Anders. She traced her fingers up and down his chest briefly before he took her hand in his. She could feel him gearing up to speak and she was leery of the sigh that escaped him before he spoke. "There is one more thing I need of you, my love. And I can't tell you why." She remained silent and allowed him to continue, her heart clenching. "I must get inside the Chantry, without being seen. Will you talk to the Grand Cleric for me? Distract her long enough for me to do what must be done?"

She lifted her head from his chest and looked him in the eye. "Tell me your plan."

He cringed. "You would not thank me if I told you. If you support freedom for mages, help me. That's all I can say."

"What do you want me to talk about?" she asked, pulling her hand gently from his. She was not keen on doing something that made her nose twitch.

He frowned, his lip curling slightly. "Food? The weather? What does it matter?" Then his expression shifted and she swore there was a hint of Justice that peeked through his eyes momentarily before he said, "No, talk of mages. Give her one final chance to hear what we have suffered. To pick a side. Perhaps she'll be more inclined to listen to you."

A final chance? What was he up to? Hawke pulled away from him further, her own lip lifting in a suspicious sneer. "What is it you don't want me to see?"

He shifted so he laid on his side, supported on his elbow as she was. "Do you believe in me, love? Do you believe mages deserve to live free of the templars' grasp? Then trust me now. I am doing only what is necessary."

A realization hit her and she felt a chunk of her heart chip away and fall into sadness. "Was this ever about you and Justice? Or have you lied this whole time?"

His reaction was defensive. He sat up and turned his back to her, his legs swinging off the bed. "I lied. There is no potion. But what we have gathered will bring freedom for more than just me and Justice. It will help mages throughout Thedas." He turned and set his gaze on her. "In the face of that, one lie means little."

It meant more to her, and she could feel that sentiment painted all over her face. Why wasn't he trusting her? Had she not proven that she was of one mind with him when it came to mage rights? She shifted, crawling across the bed and laying her hands on his shoulders, her expression pleading. "I can't act blindly. Tell me your plan."

Instead of melting into her as he usually did, he shrugged her hands from him and said, "I am taking a risk. I would not see you drawn into it." Then he set a frown on her. "But maybe your support of mages ends at talk. It's easy to support freedom if no one must die to achieve it. You cannot _claim_ to love me, then turn on me now."

She balked, sitting back on her heels. "I care for you," she said slowly and pointedly. "That doesn't mean I agree with every decision."

He shook his head. "You cannot care for me and despise what I stand for. I am the cause of mages. There is nothing else inside me," he barked, getting up from the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. She caught the whimper of sadness that threatened to slip from her throat as he basically said that his cause meant more to him than she did. She knew it wasn't true. They had shared so much, but to hear him say so in a fit of pique was hurtful. "Will you aid us now? Or does your support stop at the Chantry door?"

She crossed her own arms then, feeling spiteful. "Tell me what you would have of me, then. But I won't forget you blackmailed me to get it."

He turned to face her, his earlier malice all but gone from his face, replaced with sorrow. "I promise, whatever happens, it's on my head. It will not come back on you." He reached out and pried her arms from their defensive position, but she jerked them back, not ready to forgive and forget just yet. He sighed. "Go to the Chantry. Talk to the Grand Cleric. I will join you when I'm done."

 

She headed to the Chantry the next morning, feeling shaky and suspicious. When the two of them stepped inside, he said quietly, "I'll find you as soon as I'm done. Thank you." Then he leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek before disappearing.

She headed for the main pulpit and came upon Sebastian talking with Elthina already. "Do you never intend to give a public answer, Your Grace?" he asked her.

"What have I been asked?" she wondered in a mockingly innocent tone.

"About the mages! You could calm this fire if you stepped forward," he said gently.

Elthina grimaced. "The Chantry's teachings are clear. Those who turn against them would not listen more to me than to Andraste."

Hawke sighed as she approached, offering Sebastian a wink. "Mage this, templar that. Is there anywhere in Kirkwall people don't talk about this?"

Sebastian frowned. "The last time mages rebelled against the Chantry, they ended up ruling Tevinter. Should we just ignore them?"

Elthina sighed. "I did not expect things to deteriorate so fast. I thought after the Qunari, no one would wish for more violence. It has drawn more attention than I would like." She turned her eyes to Sebastian. "Sebastian, if I can ask..."

He dipped his head. "Anything, Your Grace."

"And the Champion, too, if you will...?" Elthina asked.

Hawke snorted. "I can't imagine any way this will go wrong."

"What would you have of us?" Sebastian asked, ignoring Hawke's sarcasm.

"The Divine is concerned about the situation here. She does not want to see the Free Marches become another Imperium. She has sent an agent to... assess the danger. Meet with her, please. Tell her drastic measures won't be required."

Hawke nodded. "I don't want to see the Divine's armies march against Kirkwall."

Sebastian gasped. "Surely the Divine wouldn't treat the whole city as enemies!"

"She is concerned," explained Elthina. "It is never wise to draw the concern of the powerful."

"She is the voice of Andraste. She cannot turn the might of the Chantry against the innocent due to... proximity," he insisted.

Elthina scoffed. "Were no innocents harmed in the Exalted Marches? She will do her best, Sebastian, but she must act first to protect the faith."

Hawke interrupted. "What can you tell me about this servant of the Divine?"

Elthina shrugged. "I was not told her real name, only to call her Sister Nightingale. She is said to be the Divine's left hand, sent to do work that might blacken the Divine's name."

"What argument would convince her?" Hawke was all for mage rights, but an Exalted March was a terrible idea. She would say anything to prevent it.

"The Divine has heard my protests already. I must trust your own powers of persuasion now," Elthina conceded.

Hawke nodded. "This cannot wait."

"Thank you. We cannot allow this... ridiculous mage rebellion to turn into holy war," Sebastian sighed.

Elthina nodded as well. "The agent, Sister Nightingale, will be waiting in the Viscount's throne room tonight. She wishes to remain... unseen. The room has been sealed since the Qunari incident. It may be difficult to get in without attracting attention."

"Leave that to me, Your Grace," Sebastian said with a bow before backing away and leaving with a nod to Hawke.

Elthina sighed again and Hawke shuffled her feet. "Maker's Blessing, Champion. Have you come to pray?"

Hawke shook her head gently. "So... hypohetically, if there were a group of people being brutally subjugated by another... Wouldn't the Maker favor the oppressed?"

The Grand Cleric's lips pursed. "You speak of mages. It's no secret that you count apostates among your freinds, Champion. You have done much to fan the flames of rebellion here. We must give Meredith and Orsino time to work out their differences. No good can come of showing favor to one side."

"Couldn't you solve this problem if you just spoke out?" Hawke insisted.

"How would that help? Both sides make good points. Both have flaws. For a thousand years, the Chantry has had to find the balance between them. That hasn't changed here."

"I guess that means you're not ready to disband the templars and set every mage free?" Hawke snarked with a sigh.

"I feel for the mages, I do. I would not wish to be locked in the Gallows. But I cannot take sides. We are all the Maker's creatures, but magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mortals. I only hope I can balance the needs of everyone. For if it comes to war, it is the people of this city who will lose."

"There you are." Anders' familiar voice washed over Hawke and she felt herself shudder, her body reacting even though she was still miffed at him. "I've been looking for you all over." He turned his gaze to Elthina and smiled. "Your Grace..."

"Your soul is troubled, child," Elthina said knowingly. "I hope you found a balm for it here."

His smile faded, but he did not respond. Hawke followed him from the Chantry quietly. She could see in the set of his shoulders that her words had hurt. She resisted the urge to comfort him. He opened his mouth to speak to Hawke, but then closed it before uttering a word. Then he shook his head and started off down the Chantry stairs. Hawke let him go, meaning to give him and herself the space they both needed just then. She wanted to rail against him and hate him for his manipulations, but he had stuck by her through so much. Did she not owe him the benefit of the doubt?

Wandering the city seemed a suitable pasttime, so she started off. Anders had diappeared and she assumed he had gone to his clinic. Her feet shuffled along beneath her, her mind a million miles away. She could not solve Anders' infestation, but perhaps she might set herself to task on relieving him of another of his burdens. The dreams he suffered from the Joining were not an everyday occurrence, but when he did have them, he was grumpy the next day. She could always tell. She wondered if contacting the Wardens in the area might get her some answers or even an idea of where to look for relief.

While she pondered, she was jerked from her revery by an man's voice in a thick Antivan accent. "Ah, The Champion of Kirkwall. Your reputation precedes you." She needed to change her face. She rolled her eyes at the interruption of her musings and saw the person addressing her. He was tall and thin with darkly tanned skin and an impressive goatee that grew into a point below his chin. "Forgive me," he said at her frown. "I should introduce myself properly." He gave a low bow and spoke swiftly. "My name is Nuncio Caldera Lanos. I am a noble from the beautiful country of Antiva."

She lifted a single brow at the dramatization and feigned interest. "It must have taken a lot of practice to say that all in one breath."

He smirked. "It's mostly to impress the ladies, I assure you." After a once over of her with his blue eyes, he continued. "I have come to ask for your help, Champion. Hiding among the Dalish is an elven assassin I have been chasing for months. He's a master manipulator who will endanger even his own kind to ensure his survival."

Hawke crossed her arms. "You don't seem the type to hunt assassins. Why are you after him?"

Nuncio shrugged. "At first, it was merely duty to Antiva, but after losing so many good men to him, it became personal. He's nothing but a murderer, a thief, and a liar."

Hawke summed up Nuncio's request. "You want me to use my wily, wily ways to find out where the Dalish are hiding this elf?"

"That is part of it, yes. This elf is very dangerous and he must be brought in before he kills again. I've heard of your dealings with the Dalish. I was hoping you could go where my men could not. Find out where the assassin is hiding and apprehend him."

Hawke sighed, uncertain after the incident with Merrill whether the Dalish would speak with her. "I'll see what I can do."

"One of the Dalish. A woman named Variel, is a friend of his. I suggest speaking with her first."

Another of the hunters spoke up before Hawke could leave. "We won't be here when you get back. We got a campsite outside the city. Look for us there."

Hawke nodded and turned to head for her mansion. She had a letter to write before she did anything. The more she thought about the Warden problem, the more she thought it might be time for her to get in touch with her cousin.

 

_Warden Commander Amell,_

_You don't know me personally, but we are both aquainted with one of your fellow wardens. Anders. I don't know how much he has told you about me, but apparently we are cousins on my mother's side. She was an Amell._

_I am writing to you for some advice. I'm uncertain if you know much about Anders' situation and I don't believe disclosing his secrets is my business. Because of his circumstances, I have seen how heavily his dreams affect him. I suppose I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help. Now that I'm writing this, I feel silly. I mean there have been generations abound of Wardens and if there was something to be done, likely they would have solved that particular problem by now. I just want to feel like I'm helping. Even a little bit. He suffers and..._

_Please don't send assassins after me for knowing about Warden secrets. I know that happens to be a bad thing, but I swear I'm not telling anyone. I just thought you might be the person to ask._

_Feeling ridiculous, your cousin,_

_The Champion of Kirkwall, (Don't know why I incuded that)_

_Marian Hawke (Don't use my first name. No one does.)_

 

Hawke stared long at the letter before folding it up and sealing it in an envelope for Bodhan to take to the rookery across town.

 

It was getting late and she only had a few hours before she needed to meet Sebastian to go to the Keep and find Sister Nightingale. She needed to have it out with Anders before then. She was still angry, but stewing would get her nowhere. She made her way down to the Clinic, hoping he was there. The lanterns were dark but the doors were unlocked. She walked in to Varric handing Anders back a pillow. She recognized the small lumpy thing. It was the only thing Anders had from his life before the Circle. Hand embroidered by his mother. Varric shoved it back at him and said. "Uh uh, you keep your pillow blondie. And may you have many more dreams of killing templars on it."

He waved to Hawke as he left, Anders catching sight of her and hugging his pillow gently before setting it down beside the stuffed cat on his desk. "Hawke... I... didn't expect you here," he said in surprise as the door closed behind Varric. Before she could even say a word, he spoke again nervously. "I want to tell you now, I love you. You've stood by me when I gave you every reason to turn away. Just remember, whatever happens, I wanted you to know that."

Her anger was suddenly replaced by a rapid heartbeat and a lump in her throat. "Why are you talking like this?"

There was a small smile across his face as he spoke. "He'll still be here, you know... Justice... long after you and I are gone. It doesn't mean the same thing to a spirit. He'll just go back to the Fade..."

Her chuckle was choked and nervous. "Usually people don't say things like that unless they're about to stab someone in the back."

"I love you," he repeated vehemently. "I wish that meant I would never hurt you. You are the most important thing in my life... But some things matter more than my life, more than either of us. I'm sorry. I know you don't understand why I must do what I do, but I thought maybe you'd support me."

Her anger flared again. "You never even told me what you're doing!"

"I'm trying to protect you," he snapped. "There's no reason we both need to hang."

A wash of fear flitted through her and she retaliated. "You're the one who jerked me around with that ridiculous story about the Tevinter potion."

He sneered angrily. "I told you. I'm a liar. I'm a monster. I never claimed I would do anything but hurt you. Should I have told you the truth? There's no one in Kirkwall I wouldn't kill to see mages free. How would you have reacted to that?"

She felt a prick of tears forming in the corners of her eyes and she blinked furiously. "There must be a peaceful solution." Her frustration was getting the better of her. She needed to take a breath and calm down. She hadn't come here to push him away.

"No," he insisted.

"If you talk to the Grand Cleric..."

"No," he jerked his head to the side.

"If Meredith steps down..." she continued, grasping for a foot hold that might bring him back to her so they could talk.

"They see mages as monsters. They can't imagine a world with room for all of us... Maybe they're right."

She threw caution to the wind and took a step toward him. "If you want mages to be free, you need to convince people we're not dangerous."

"Impossible..." he threw his arms to the sides in frustration that matched her own.

"All you're doing is proving the templars right," she reasoned.

"Do you know how long I've been telling them that? Mage after mage in Kirkwall, turning to blood magic because it's 'easy'. I always said they were their own worst enemies. Still I never thought I..." he hung his head and sighed, the wind knocked out of his sails.

"Whatever you planned, there's still time to stop it," she said, jumping on his agreeable mindset.

"Yes. Time... maybe there's still time..." Suddenly, his face shifted and through deep cracks in his skin, blue light shone and his eyes blazed with mage fire. "Leave! This does not concern you."

"This is Anders' decision, not yours," she spat at the spirit as it attempted to cow her.

"I _am_ Anders!" he growled. "You have given in to sloth... You would stand by while mages are abducted and tortured. Go! Anders has no need of you!" The blue flickered and disippated and the tears that had threatened were streaming freely down her face. She had no idea that things had gotten so out of hand. Anders shook his head. "What was I saying?"

"You... don't know what just happened?" she asked as he noted the tears on her cheeks and his eyes widened.

"No... what do you... oh, I'm having more... blanks in my memory. It's like the longer we go, the less of me there is. You were right all along. I should never have done this. Being with you..." he approached her, closing the gap between them and brushing a thumb over the tears on her cheeks. "Loving you. I thought it would make a difference. But he's too strong. I've tried my best. Don't hate me for failing."

Her knees went weak and she moved against him, allowing him to hug her tightly. She didn't have the strength to face Justice again, so she dropped the thought of convincing him to undo whatever he had done and buried her face in his chest. "If you were curious, that's not the best way to get me in the mood."

She felt him cringe. "I told you I would break your heart. Just know it breaks mine to do it." He sighed, still holding on to her, the rise and fall of his chest shifting her. "I was hoping we'd find a better way, but... Justice and Vengeance are too intertwined. I can't tell one from the other. You are the one shining light in my life. Never blame yourself for what will happen."

"I don't hate you," she said softly, allowing the words to fall on the silence of the room. As they stood in each other's arms, she realized how deep she had dug herself. He had warned her again and again, but she couldn't help herself. He was her other half. Their magic even agreed. After what felt like an eternity, she cleared her throat and pulled gently away from him. "I have a thing in the Keep tonight. I should be going."

"Did you..." he cleared his own throat awkwardly. "Did you want me to come?"

"It probably would concern you. If you want to come, I won't say no," she said, hoping he would follow. It had been a long time since she had gone on a mission without him. She didn't think it was the time to start. She had just scrambled over a huge hump in their relationship and she was currently careening down the other side and praying he was beside her.

"Okay," he smiled weakly and picked up his staff.

 

They met Sebastian near the end of Viscount's way and as quietly as they could made their way into the Keep. Hawke passed by several templars that eyed her with suspicion, so she diverted to the barracks for a short chat with Aveline to draw attention away from her and her small entourage. Aveline was aware something was wrong, if her narrowed eyes were any indication as they slipped from Hawke to the vacant space at the head of her desk that she had taken to leaving clear for Hawke's rear. Hawke kept the conversation brief and left before Aveline could grill her on her odd behavior. She wanted to get this meeting over with so she could go home. Hawke hadn't known that her nerves had a last one until she had found it today when Justice trod all over it. She and the spirit had unfinished business. Sebastian deftly picked the lock on the entrance to the Viscount's throne room while Hawke and Anders kept an eye for curious templars. Then they all slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind them.

It seemed they needn't have bothered being stealthy because inside the throne room, which had been cleaned of both the Viscount and the Arishok's blood, there was already a group of interlopers. "So, even the Divine fears us now," a woman in mage robes said, chuckling as she descended from the throne dais. "She should... Kill the spies!"

The group followed the woman's commands and attacked Hawke and her friends. Sebastian immediately loosed an arrow at the leader woman, but it bounced off her barrier. Hawke readied a mana drain to suck the barrier from around the other mage when a rage demon sprouted up with fire at her feet. She backpedaled and dropped the spell to protect herself. Again, she drew her mana in panic and thrust her hands forward. Chunks of ice shot from her palms and she looked down in distraction at her own fingers that had automatically formed the correct gestures for the frost spell. Were all of her years working with Anders, and Fenris' helpful runeing finally paying off? Whatever the case may be, they were still under attack, so she whipped her staff around and shattered the frozen demon before readying her mana drain spell again and laying it on the woman. The unfamiliar mana seeped from the woman and drained into Hawke's reserves, refilling her spindle. Sebastian again loosed an arrow and it found the woman between the eyes. Anders jogged up to her and she noticed that in her distraction the rest of the threats had been neutralized. He took her hand in his and studied it with scrutiny. "I don't know," she answered the question in his eyes before he could ask it.

A pair of jogging footsteps sounded behind them but before they could react, the steps paused. Hawke saw a flash of light followed by thick concealing smoke. The shink of blades and the distinct sound of falling bodies met her ears from behind the cloud. She took her hands back from Anders and carefully approached the fog, waving the remnants from her face as it disippated. Before them stood a young woman with a shock of red hair that was cut short and simple with a thin braid among the rest on her left side. She wore plain leather pants and a tan vest over a tunic with flowing sleeves held in check at the wrists by a pair of arm guards. She was sheathing a pair of angry looking daggers into a belt lined with all sorts of weapons and dangling vials of potions and grenades. "The Resolutionists," she said in a thick Orlesian accent as she approached Hawke and simultaneously indicated the bodies all around. "I might have known they would be part of this."

"Who are the Resolutionists?" Hawke asked with a frown as the strange woman paused a short distance from them, unconcerned about who they might be.

"An offshoot of a fraternity within the Circle of Magi. There have always been factions that support freedom from the Chantry and the abolition of the Circle. We have..." she paused, her sharp blue eyes sizing up Hawke and the others. "tolerated them. But the Resolutionists have become violent. They are likely behind the unrest here."

"Are you Sister Nightingale?" Hawke wondered. She was definitely not what Hawke had pictured.

She chuckled softly. "I am. Or you may call me Leliana. The Divine sent me to investigate the possibility of a rebellion here in Kirkwall. I have... some experience in unconventional situations."

Hawke frowned. " _The_ Leliana? Who accompanied the Hero of Ferelden to slay the archdemon?"

Her smile was genuine and a little bit coy. "Ah, I see it will be harder to remain anonymous so near the Ferelden border. Yes, I knew the Hero of Ferelden. Perhaps you have heard the songs I wrote of our time together. But that... was many years ago. I am working for the Divine now. In Orlais. I had not thought to return to this part of Thedas."

"I hardly imagined the Divine's secret agent looking like you," Hawke explained.

"That is why I am effective," she chuckled softly with a shrug. "The Divine has long suspected that Kirkwall's problems were spurred by an outside group."

Anders snorted. "Like any mage with a brain can't come up with 'Let's rebel'?"

"This attack proves she is right," Leliana said carefully.

"Are you saying you set this whole thing up?" Hawke gasped.

Leliana shrugged. "I let word slip that an agent of the Divine was coming to investigate the mage troubles. It is how they chose to react which condemns them."

"A few...uh..." Hawke glanced to Anders briefly. "Wild cards aside, Grand Cleric Elthina has it all under control, I swear."

Leliana's brow rose. "Divine Justinia takes the situation here very seriously. She believes it is the worst threat to Thedas since the Qunari invaded."

Sebastian spoke up. "A handful of apostates? How can that possibly...?"

"The whole world is watching Kirkwall," Leliana interrupted. "If it falls to magic, none of us are safe."

"None of you," Anders said pointedly.

Leliana narrowed her eyes. "Tell Elthina to leave. There is refuge for her at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais. She will not be safe here." There was regret in her tone as Leliana turned to leave. That had not gone according to plan.

They all slipped out of the throne room and left the Keep. The night was brisk and Hawke huddled her neck in the fur of her mantle as they headed for the Chantry. Anders was silent and Sebastian looked angry. "The mages are out of control," he mumbled as he pulled the Chantry doors open.

Elthina was waiting for them on the pulpit and Hawke brushed past Sebastian. "What would you say to an exciting trip to Orlais? I hear the Grand Cathedral's lovely this time of year," she pitched with a grin.

"What?" Elthina gasped.

Sebastian sighed. "You were right. The Divine will be taking action against Kirkwall, though the sister didn't say what. You must take the Holy relics from the Chantry and leave for safety."

"Sebastian!" Elthina scolded. "I'm surprised at you. Andraste would not thank me for saving a few dusty finger bones and my own skin at the cost of people's lives."

"You keep dead people here?" Hawke asked, wrinkling her nose at the finger bones.

Sebastian explained. "The Kirkwall Chantry has guarded the remains of the martyr Deverina for eight hundred years. They must be protected."

"When I became grand cleric, I took a vow to the people of Kirkwall and the Free Marches. I will not leave my flock," Elthina insisted.

"Would you let yourself die?" Sebastian pleaded.

"There is no greater devotion than to lay one's life at the Maker's feet. There is no better death than to take the blow for another."

"You don't hear that one quoted often, do you?" Hawke mumbled at Elthina's words.

"Please, Your Grace. Sister Nightingale thinks there will be war." Sebastian continued.

"Then I must make peace," Elthina retorted. "Settle yourself, Sebastian. I'm in no personal danger. I am Grand Cleric... who would dare attack me?"

A chill washed over Hawke as she hoped she did not know the answer to that question. Sebastian sighed. "If you will not shield yourself, then I will be your shield. You will come through this safely, by the Maker's name. I swear it."

Hawke had heard enough. She excused herself and took Anders' arm to lead him away. Back outside, they walked down the Chantry steps together, Anders at Hawke's side. He was silent as the dead as they made their way to the mansion and inside. He never said a word as she scratched Alfie's head and then headed for the bedroom. He was simply beside her. She sat on the edge of the bed and started to slowly take off her armor. She was not quite sure where they stood at the moment and she really dreaded asking. Once the layers of metal fell from her arms and legs, she stood and moved to the armoir to put them away. He patiently followed and as soon as she had put them in their place, he took hold of her arm over top the blazing scar. Gooseflesh rose all along her arm and he reached up as her body half turned toward him to cup her neck and draw her lips to his.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if the question of where they stood was poised on the tip of his mind as well. When she did not resist, the hand that rested on her arm moved to press flat to her back and hold her against him. She found her own hands roving up his sides to rest on his waist. This was too right to ever be over. The kiss did not last long as he pulled away and whispered. "I'm so sorry, love."

She lifted a finger and touched it to his mouth to silence his fretting. This was not about apologies. It was about what he meant to her. She dragged her finger along his bottom lip, sparking tiny bolts of electricity. His tongue flicked out on instinct and she leaned in to capture his mouth again, their tongues mingling briefly as the lingering sparks bounced between their lips. She then pulled away again to make heavy eye contact, her blue eyes boring into his honey pools. Her lingering hands lifted further toward his scalp, jostling his too short tail from it's tie. His hair fell down over her hands to cover up the shining earring in his right ear and flop into his eyes, obscuring her view. She brushed it aside and offered him a tender smile which he returned. Then she backed up toward the bed, pulling him with her and she had flashbacks to their first night together. Things had been so much simpler then.

In spite of all his warnings and the constant rejections, she had fallen for him and now she was so deep in the hole that she could never crawl back out. To do so would leave a piece of her behind. Every move they made that night was tentative and afraid, in spite of reassurances in the fierceness of the heat between them. They loved each other, there was no doubt about that. But Hawke had a problem on her hands in the form of Justice getting stronger. She kept fearing that she would look up at him as he rode her and see the cracks of blue that had nearly broken her earlier that day. What had she done that angered the spirit so much? Was it because of Anders' love for her that it had not been able to fully take over? Was that what it even wanted? She pushed the thoughts from her mind as Anders paused and reached down to brush her unruly bangs from her face and cock his head. "All right, love?"

She nodded and pulled him down to her, laying a kiss on his lips. He began to move against her again and she found that for the first time ever, she needed a little push. She bit her lip and slowly slipped heat into her palms as she ran them down his back and over his rear. He answered in kind, a burst of electricity leaving his fingers as he traced them down her side. She arched her back as the sparks tickled down her core and clenched her muscles, making every move he made against her a rush of ecstasy. "I love you, Anders," she breathed as her pleasure burst over her and followed the confession with a moan.

His answer was his orgasm, spreading warmth inside her before he settled gently down beside her, his palm sliding up her side, around her ticklish spot and over her breast to squeeze gently before continuing up to her neck where he pulled her to him and claimed her mouth.

 

Hawke headed out to the Dalish camp the next day, hoping that they weren't shot on sight. The girl, Variel, pointed them to the set of caves where Hawke had killed the Varterral and freely told them that the assassin had insisted that she tell anyone who came to call where he was. Something wasn't adding up. The cave was actively trapped and Varric had a heck of a time dismantling them all and guiding them around pressure plates. There was no sign of the Varterral's corpse when they entered the large cavern, but before Hawke could comment on the fact, The creature itself descended from the ceiling like a giant spider. "Why is this thing still here? Didn't I kill it once already?" she shrieked as the Varterral attacked.

They implemented similar tactics as they had before to kill the thing, and when it fell, Hawke found herself twirling her staff to point the dagger end at a voice that brazenly approached, a rather upbeat tone to his words. "Now _you_ I wasn't expecting." The assassin was dark skinned and obviously Antivan like the men who had sent her after him. He had light blonde hair that blended nicely with the color and a tattoo along his left cheek that accented his sharp cheekbones and handsome eyes. He wore leathers that were obviously much higher end than you might think and he held a smirk that told her he was dangerous if you crossed him, especially with the twin daggers that rode his hips. "How do you do? My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin." He winked and offered a flamboyant bow.

"I've heard about you," Anders said, moving to Hawke's side as she continued to point the business end of her staff at the far too calm elf. "You helped the Hero of Ferelden stop the Blight."

"At your service, my friend!" Zevran said cooly. "I must admit, I was waiting for an assault by the Crows, not the mighty Champion of Kirkwall." He brazenly lifted a finger and nudged her staff from his face, still smirking.

"How do you know I'm the Champion?" she asked, lowering the blade, but not putting it away yet.

"Slayer of Qunari. Deep Roads explorer, and a beauty to make the gods jealous?" he tsked. "You underestimate your fame."

She rolled her eyes and brought the conversation back around, fighting the urge to fall back into her former pastime of shamelessly flirting with everything that moved. It was difficult when they prey teased in kind. "I'll assume you're not talking about birds."

"Oh, please do not tell me you know nothing of the Antivan Crows!" At her cocked hip and brow, he continued. "We are the finest guild of assassins, an object of fear throughout the lands for any man with wealthy enemies!" He chuckled shamelessly. "Or, I should say, they are... I am no longer a Crow. A fact they find unacceptable."

"There must be more to it than you leaving the guild," she pressed.

"That is offence enough to the Crows, believe me," he said with a sigh, finally peeling his eyes from her. Then he shrugged and set another of his smirks on her. "I may have also killed the last four assassins they sent after me. And all their men. Oh, and the Guildmaster! In fact, if you were a Crow you might make a fortune bringing me in! You should consider a career change." He laughed uproariously. "No, really."

From what Nuncio had said, he was definitely not what she had been expecting. "I thought you'd be taller," she pointed out, finally securing her staff on her back. She had no delusions that if he had wanted them dead, they would already be so.

"Ahhhhh," he hummed knowingly. "Let me guess. A man named Nuncio has asked you to capture a dangerous killer, yes? What did he say this time? That I killed his wife? Butchered his parents? Sold his children into slavery? Or did he tell you he was a lawman from Antiva, charged with apprehending a ridiculously handsome fugitive?" he said with a wink.

She shrugged. "He didn't mention how handsome," she blurted, making Anders grunt.

"Ahh, so you've noticed. I credit my high cheekbones and pouty lips," the assassin chuckled, pursing those very same lips. Then he shrugged. "Bring me to Nuncio if you wish, but I warn you, he surely intends to kill you. The Crows do not like loose ends, unlike myself. But you are a woman who can clearly handle herself, yes? Why worry? So you can either tie me up, gag me and then manhandle me... or you can take me to Nuncio. Which will it be I wonder?"

Hawke let out a sigh as she allowed herself to fall back on her old habits. It had been a long time since she flirted for fliting's sake. Nothing would ever come of it, but she hadn't done it in so long. "I like your list of options... but does it have to be in that order?"

He grinned. "I knew you couldn't resist my obvious charms. It's the accent, isn't it?"

She snorted and shook her head, flapping her hand dismissively. "I'm not going to hand you over to someone who lied to me."

He nodded. "As a suggestion, you might wish to deal with Nuncio. If you don't he will only come after you." He bowed again and winked. "It's been more than a pleasure, my dear Champion. Fare you well."

Hawke left the cave feeling better than she had in days. That simple act of empty flirtation giving her a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in ages. The weight of her title had been weighing on her more often as the city continuously heaped issue after issue on her. She needed a vacation. They made their way to where Nuncio and his men were camped and Hawke brazenly approached them. "I let your assassin go... was I not supposed to do that?"

Nuncio gazed at her, startled, before his expression turned angry. "You had him, and you let him go? I am thoroughly disappointed. No one fails the Crows and lives."

A sharp tsking sounded from just outside the camp. "Ah, poor, stupid Nuncio." Zevran appeared like smoke to their side and she grinned. "The Crows do like that saying, but I am living proof it's a lie..." He snorted and turned his head to speak in an aside to Hawke. "Why they insist on thinking they can kill people like you and the Warden, I will never guess."

"Let me tell you, it's a burden I bear on a daily basis," Hawke sighed heavily.

"You are nothing but a traitor and a coward, Zevran. You'll die here!" Nuncio shouted.

One of the men came swiftly from Zevran's side and Hawke barely saw the twitch of muscles from the elf before the man fell face first with a throwing knife in his eye. "Yes, well. Let's see how that works out for you," Zevran taunted. Hawke and the others barely had to do anything as Zevran slipped in and out of the fight, making his terrifying skills quite useful. It reminded her much of how Isabela moved and she grinned. When the fight was over, Zevran chuckled. "Excellent! Killing my former brothers in arms is oddly satisfying." His tone went mildly awkward as he eyed her. "I've little reward to offer you, Champion, but perhaps this will serve as a token of my thanks." He handed her a small trinket and then grinned again. "It is time for me to move on. Unless you'd... care to get to know each other better, Champion?" His eyes roved up and down her person.

Before she could let him down gently, Anders grunted and scowled. " _Is_ there more to know about you? Seems like it's all right there on the surface."

"Oh, I see." Zevran bowed out smoothly. "Fair enough, then! It is time to move on, as they say. I've a little war to wage back home, and so little time." With a final bow he said, "Perhaps we'll meet again, Champion."

 

Anders split from her to head to the Clinic while she headed home to get changed. When she got inside, she was greeted by a spectacular view of Isabela's rear as she leaned over Hawke's letter desk and flipped through her things. Hawke smirked and started to pull off her gloves. "Oh, look who's here! Time to change the locks again."

Isabela turned and returned the teasing grin, settling a hand on her hip. "I knocked this time. Bodhan let me in." She hesitated, taking in Hawke's attire and judging her mood before continuing. "Guess what? Castillon's in town, and I'm not waiting around for him to stick a knife in my vitals. We're going to get him before he gets me."

"We're going to surprise Castillon? I love surprises!" Hawke said dramatically.

Isabela scowled crossing her arms and moving to stand in front of the fire. "Unfortunately, Castillon's holed up somewhere in Kirkwall. I haven't been able to find him." She sighed. "I do know where Velasco is, however. That's his right hand. We just have to make him tell us where Castillon is." She hung her head. "Somehow..."

"What a plan!" Hawke japed. "Your scheming ability puts me to shame."

"Well, I haven't worked out all the kinks," she admitted as she began to pace small circles. "Step one, we go to Velasco. Step two, something exciting happens... Step three, profit! Well, do you have a better idea?"

Hawke shrugged. "We could hit him until he talks..."

Isabela thought for a moment and then shook her head. "You'll just end up killing him."

Hawke pondered for a few more moments and then she backhanded Isabela on her bicep where she kept the small red sash that she had stolen from Hawke's dresser tied around her arm. "Castillon wants you. Why not let Velasco bring you to him?"

"And... you follow me. Ooh, that's clever." she snorted. "I was going to suggest challenging Velasco to a riddle game, and making 'where's your boss?' one of the riddles. This is so much better."

Hawke pulled her gloves back on and said, "I'm ready whenever you are."

They started for the door and Isabela explained, "Velasco's been spending his nights at the brothel, enjoying its many splendors. That's where we'll find him."

They headed to the Blooming Rose and Isabela led Hawke upstairs to the largest room off the balcony. Outside the door she pointed. "That's his room over there."

"Are you ready?" Hawke asked as Isabela took a deep breath.

"Yes, I think so. Now, this needs to be convincing. And you'll need to get creative... call me names, even hit me. Stick with it, no matter what I do. Velasco's a clever son of a bitch. If you waver, he'll notice." Isabela was nervous.

Hawke grinned as she steadied her mask and crossed her arms, cocking her hips. "I'm worried about you. You're enjoying this a little too much."

"I am, aren't I?" Isabela giggled, her nerves still showing as she gathered herself under Hawke's confident umbrella. "Whatever you do, just make sure he takes me to Castillon. I'll leave a trail for you to follow. Let's go."

Hawke hooked arms with Isabela and they pushed into the unlocked door. There were several men in the room, all of them in various degrees of undress, and revelry. Hawke's eyes were drawn to one in particular who was still dressed fully with an elven girl in a negligee pinned to the wall. Their interruption drew all eyes to them and the man spun to see who had caused the loud noise at the door. "What..." The girl took the chance to run from the room, followed by a few others. The men all scrambled to tuck themselves away as Hawke cocked a smirk, judging the room with her eyes. "Get back here, you..." the man grunted. "Skittish bitch..." He turned his ire on Hawke as she removed her arm from Isabela's. "I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my private time."

Hawke tossed her head at Isabela. "I brought you a new plaything. She's much less timid."

"Are you insane?" Isabela growled angrily.

Hawke turned and chuckled breathily. "You should see the look on your face."

"This wasn't the plan! We were going to kill him!" she barked in response.

Hawke continued to snicker. "Remember that time you ran off with the Tome of Koslun? This is like that, only funnier."

Isabela spat at Hawke's feet and Hawke lifted a brow that only she could see. "You backstabbing little shit! You'd better start sleeping with one eye open!" Velasco's men surrounded Isabela and grabbed her arms, dragging her from the room as she kicked and shrieked.

Velasco grinned and patted Hawke's shoulder. "Castillon will be pleased. He's been looking for Isabela for some time. A token of our appreciation. It's more than she's worth." He handed Hawke a small pouch of coin and followed after the ruckus that was going through the brothel.

Hawke waited for the noise to subside and then she left, making certain that her following was not obvious. Just outside the front door of the Rose, her boot crunched on a tiny piece of gold. She knelt and picked it up, recognizing it was from one of Isabela's rings. The ring itself shimmered in the light of the street lamp to Hawke's left. She slowly moved to pick up the ring and then glanced about to see her next clue. The trail led her through Hightown and she was passing her own home when Anders' voice drew her attention. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?"

She looked over to see him standing in the alcove, in the middle of unlocking the door. "No time to explain. Want to come?"

He tipped his head and turned the key to re lock the door before tucking it back in his robes and moving to follow her. She hunted down the next bit of jewelry and softly explained as they went. Through the Merchant's Guild, down past the Hightown Market and into Lowtown. Through the streets of Lowtown, past the Hanged man and around to the long staircase that led to the docks. She cringed as they passed the awful templar statue with its blazing sword.

The trail led them to a warehouse with a dock attached. A small ship was anchored outside. Hawke quietly let herself in and heard Velasco's voice talking as she picked her way to the main area. "Why don't we work something out? If you're good, I'll tell Castillon to go easy on you."

Isabela snorted as Hawke knelt behind a thin rail and surveyed the scene. There were barely any raiders in the warehouse, so rescuing Isabela should be easy. Especially since she noted that Velasco hadn't been all that thorough in checking her for hidden knives. Hawke knew where every single one was hidden from experience. Isabela snorted as she paced in front of Velasco. "Contrary to popular belief, I do have standards."

Velasco took offense. "You're going to do whatever I want. I own you."

Isabela glanced up toward where Hawke had entered and noticed her squatting in the shadows. Hawke wiggled her fingers in a wave and grinned. "You sure about that?" Isabela said with a smirk.

Hawke stood and made herself known. "You!" Velasco raged. "I knew the bitch was up to something! Kill them!" he shouted.

Isabela turned on him, a pair of her knives appearing from her bodice, She engaged the man and Hawke and Anders took care of the rest. When they were dead, Hawke trotted down to join Isabela beside Velasco's ribboned corpse. "Velasco sent word to Castillon," Isabela informed her, sheathing her blades. "He's on his way. Let's look around first. I want to know why he's in Kirkwall." She led them into a small office area and began to fish around in the chests. Then she sighed. "So Castillon's looking to expand his slaving business. Why am I not surprised? The city guard will find these documents very interesting." Isabela folded up whatever she found and stuffed it in her bodice.

When they exited the office, a single man was standing in the middle of the warehouse, his arms crossed. Hawke drew her staff warily as he spoke. "And Velasco told me you were all tied up, a lovely present just waiting to be opened. I see he paid for that little mistake. What a pretty smear he makes. Well played, Isabela. Crossed and double crossed."

She shrugged and held up a hand to Hawke to keep her from striking against Castillon. "You want to talk? Maybe we should talk about these documents. Slavery in the _Free_ Marches? They're not going to like that." She tsked and pulled the folded papers from her chest and slapped them against her opposite palm.

"Get to the point," Castillon sneered.

"Give me your ship, and your word to leave me alone, and you can take these papers and go."

Hawke balked and hissed to Isabela. "If you want the ship, can't we just kill him and take it?"

Isabela's eyes widened. "You don't just kill a man and take his ship! That's crude and amateurish! How will he tell everyone how I bested him if he's dead?"

"Can you trust him? He trades people for money," Hawke pointed out.

"Castillon's a businessman," Isabela said, eyeing the man. "and this is a business deal. He'll keep his end of the bargain."

Hawke shook her head and pursed her lips, trying not to smile. "Why can't you surprise me in a normal way? With flowers, maybe, or a cake?"

"I see I wan't the only one played today," Castillon grunted. "Give me the documents, and you can have the ship. And you will never hear from me again."

"Swear it," Isabela snapped, holding the papers back over her shoulder.

"I swear it on my mother's grave," Castillon said with a bow, holding out his hand. "Give me the documents."

"You've made your decision, Isabela. Do as you wish," Hawke shrugged.

She slowly handed the papers to Castillon and he smiled. "The ship is yours. Let me say, my dear, that you would make a remarkable ally for any man able to tame you. Our business is hereby concluded. Forever. Be well, Isabela."

With that, he left and Hawke watched in shock. "This is going to come back to bite you. You know that, right?"

"I've got the fastest ship on the ocean. It's got to catch me in order to bite me," she said with a smirk.

Hawke cringed but continued to smile. "If you're looking to sail off, I think the sunset's that way," she pointed.

Isabela scoffed. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. Yet. I owe you all this, you know? I've got a feeling something big's about to happen. Knowing you, you'll be right in the middle of it. I wouldn't miss that for the world." She leaned in and kissed Hawke's cheek softly. "Come on." She smirked.

 

Hawke had been idle for some time, wondering when the next shoe was going to drop. She got her answer when Varric showed up at her door with two things on his mind. The first was a personal matter and the second had to do with an invitation she had earned to some Orlesian party.

When she answered the door to him standing there, he grinned and stepped inside. "Got a minute, Hawke?" She ushered him in and they made their way to the library where she poured him a drink and sat in her favorite wingback, one leg splayed over the arm as he settled across from her. "I know this is ancient history, but remember that Hightown house Bartrand barricaded himself in?" When she nodded, finding it hard to forget, he continued. "Bartrand doesn't exactly need the place, now that he's in the sanitarium. I've been trying to sell it." Varric took a long pull of his drink and then stood with a nod from her and refilled his glass.

"I can only imagine there's a huge market for the homes of deranged killers," Hawke quipped as he sat back down leaving the full glass on the table and cradling the bottle instead. She took a sip of her own drink.

"The creepy sort of people who are interested are generally not the ones with the coin to take it off my hands," he agreed with a grimace. "I found a minor noble in Rivain who bought the place sight unseen. But now there's a problem. They say the place is... haunted."

"Bartrand's atrocities must have weakened the barrier between this world and the Fade," Hawke shrugged.

"Maker, I hope not!" Varric grunted, taking another quick swig from the bottle. "I don't think I can fix the Veil through applied use of force. They've noticed some minor problems. Voices whispering in the walls, apparitions, things moving on their own. My hope is its a relic Bartrand brought back from the Deep Roads. We smash it, and the haunting stops."

Hawke frowned and leaned forward to set her empty glass down on the table before leaning back again and folding her hands over her stomach. "I'm no expert on hauntings, but what if smashing something does not make the problem go away?"

"Ah... that's where things get tricky," he agreed. "You're a mage! You must know something about... weird shit." He shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out that will help."

"What happens if we do nothing?" Hawke asked, exploring her avenues.

"Best case? They drag me before the seneschal and accuse me of fraud." He took a drink. "The worst case involves Antivan Crows."

"Very well," she said in a wispy tone, standing and moving to take the bottle from him. "We'll investigate the mansion... again." She took a drink herself and then handed it back.

"Thanks Hawke. I knew you wouldn't let me down." He offered her a grin and tipped the bottle to her before taking one last drink.

"I'll gather the troops and change into something more appropriate for a midnight ghost hunt," she smirked as she indicated her bare feet and lopsided tunic.

"You get changed, I'll gather the troops," he amended, setting the bottle down and then gulping the drink from the glass that he had left on the table. "We'll meet you at the house."

"Take the basement. It's quicker," she called after him and he waved his hand to indicate he had heard.

 

The house definitely felt strange. As Hawke and the others crept into the side door and she glanced around for any signs of life, Varric fidgeted. "Hey," he hissed in a whispered tone. "Is that music? Where is that coming from?"

"I don't hear anything," she whispered back, her own voice sounding too loud in the small space as she lifted a brow and tried to hear what he was hearing.

They continued forward slowly, Hawke waiting to have the crap scared out of her by ghostly happenings. Through the second door and toward the hall that would lead to the foyer, the door across from them opened of it's own accord. "Something in this house is restless," Fenris droned, his deep voice making her cringe as it echoed around the mostly empty room.

She squared her shoulders and headed for the open door. Once through it, she glanced around the room as Varric joined her. On a table across the room, a decorative vase lifted from where it stood and hovered a few inches above the surface. Varric huffed. "I guess the buyer wasn't kidding."

"Magic is at work here," Fenris assumed.

The vase set itself down and Hawke tried to ignore the creeping sensation that was working itself along her neck as they passed through the room to the main entryway. "Where's that voice coming from?" Varric growled in frustration.

"What voice?" she asked, still not hearing anything. He shook his head and scowled as they continued.

The room off to the left as you entered the main door had been turned into a study of sorts. Several of the books were strewn on the floor as if they had been shaken from the bookshelves that surrounded the room. Hawke picked her way through the mess as Varric mumbled. "I can barely hear it... I wish I could make out the words."

Through the study, the next hall was filled with locked doors. To their right as they passed a small round table with a chess set on top, one of the accompanying chairs lifted from the ground and flipped itself over to settle upside down on the ceiling. "The disturbances are getting stronger," Fenris said in fascination.

"We're getting closer... I can feel it, Hawke," Varric said, his voice rising above the whisper they had all seemed to subconsciously agree on.

She was getting worried. Varric was acting very strangely. She skirted the gravity defying chair in case it decided to fall on her head and tried a few more doors. The only unlocked one led into a storage room that was far too large to be called a closet. "Look at this," Varric said in awe, pushing into the room. "My brother's junk was left here. You wouldn't know it, but Bartrand was a sentimentalist. This came from our estate in Orzammar." He picked up a dish and rubbed his fingers over the designs. "When I was seven, I knocked over one of Mother's plates and broke it. My brother yelled at me for an hour." He chuckled and put on a voice to mock Bartrand's. " 'This was made by the artisans of House Saldras. The clay was from the Aedros Atuna River, which never sees the sun!' "

Hawke chuckled as Varric set the dish down. "There's no way you're talking about the same Bartrand that I met."

"Maker's truth! There were tears in his eyes! I never thought that was possible before. That stupid plate was the whole city of Orzammar to him..." He thrust his chin toward the door they had just come in and Hawke stepped back out. Whatever they were looking for was not there.

As they retraced their steps down the hall and past the floating chair, from one of the locked rooms, a dark shape ran through the door and across their path to disappear into the wall, a woman's scream accompanying it."What's going on here?" Anders wondered in shock as Hawke shuddered. "There's no way the Veil could be torn this badly."

"This isn't being caused by some random artifact. The idol's still in the house, Hawke! It has to be!" Varric guessed emphatically.

Hawke whimpered as they passed through the study again and all of the books lifted from the floor and reshelved themselves neatly. She hurried through the door into the entryway ahead of the others, her blood running cold through her veins. She didn't like any of this. Out of nowhere, another vase rocketed across the entryway and shattered itself against her head. She was dazed momentarily and she cried out as she felt blood begin to drip down her face. Anders turned her to look at the gash on her forehead and his magic seeped over her skin as he closed up the wound. "Whatever is here is angry," Fenris concluded.

The door into the main hall was now open and Hawke couldn't help but feel as if they were being corralled as she stepped cautiously through the door and erected a barrier around herself in case more of the decor got feisty. In the main hall, a bunch of knickknacks and other odds and ends were dancing around the air above their heads. She continued cautiously and as she set foot on the staircase that would lead them upstairs, a deep rumbling sounded from somewhere deeper in the house. "Varric, is that what you've been hearing?" Anders asked cautiously.

"No," Varric answered, looking all around for the source.

"Good. Then I'm not going crazy," Anders said sardonically and he glanced sidelong at Hawke.

She continued up the stairs and on the upper landing, her nerves got the better of her. Her hands shook as she reached for the handle into the room where Bartrand had committed the worst of his crazy crimes. The door creaked open and as they stepped into the dark room, a terrified woman stood from a crouch behind a pile of crates. "Are you real?" she asked, her eyes wide. She looked as if she had been hiding for a long time. "You've got to get out of here before it comes back!"

"Where's the idol?" Varric demanded.

"What idol?" the frightened woman asked, her voice wavering as her eyes darted all around.

"Don't waste my time with your lies! Tell me where it is!" he demanded again.

"I didn't exactly want to stay for dinner, but I think we've got a few minutes to hear her out," Hawke scolded.

"She's hiding something, Hawke," Varric insisted angrily. "Don't lie to me! I know it's here! You must have found it!"

The woman cowered at his anger. "I swear, I don't know anything about an idol! Please!" Varric moved to step closer to the woman, but before Hawke could lay a restraining hand on his shoulder, the entire house shook, sending Hawke into a stumble. "Maker, no! It's starting again!" the woman cried before bolting around them and out of the room.

Hawke shot Varric a glare of warning, but before she could say a word, a deafening scream sounded from the main hall. They all bolted after the woman and Hawke cursed as she saw over the banister, the poor woman lying dead in the middle of the hall. Standing over her was a red shadow in the shape of a massive golem. "Uh oh..." Varric mumbled as the... whatever it was... cackled maniacally and a blast of energy erupted from it's chest.

It started up the stairs for them, each step it took rumbling through the house. Hawke sprinted down the opposite staircase to flank it as Anders attempted to impede it's progress toward them with a wall of ice. It smashed through his magic and Hawke threw minor spells at it, trying to find it's weakness. Fenris' sword did little damage, but the little damage it was doing was getting them closer to stopping it. Varric was pelting it with bolts that were at least sticking and not passing through it's ethereal form. It used the house against them, throwing anything it could at them, shattering vases and forcing them to duck out of the way of tables and chairs that careened across the room seemingly of their own volition.

Suddenly, the golem raced back down the stairs and when it reached the middle of the room, it lifted to the ceiling and burst apart into small bolts of spirit energy that manifested into shades that surrounded Hawke. She ducked and threw a barrier up around her as they all slithered toward her. When they had amassed around her she cast a mind blast to knock them all away so she could escape the circle. Shades she could fight, and she did so with vigor, slinging lightning, fire and stonefists around her to thin the herd. The others came down the steps to join her and when the last shade fell, she watched it's energy race across the room and rejoin the others as the golem reappeared. They began again to chip away at the monster, Hawke not necessarily glad about the fact that it was now on her level. She backed away as it swung one of it's giant fists at her and it collided with her barrier. The blow rattled her teeth and she swung the butt of her staff up to hit it with a stonefist before it could swing at her again. Even as the golem was pushed a step back, she was knocked from behind by a table and she stumbled forward, trying in vain to keep her balance. When she hit the floor, the golem lifted it's leg to stomp her head into paste and her eyes widened before she rolled out of the way, feeling the breeze of the movement beside her as she cleared it just in time. She scrambled to her feet and backed away from it again. "Maker's breath," she mumbled to herself as she went back to casting.

Twice more, the golem split into a group of shades. She was beginning to think this fight would never end when she realized that the transparency of the red shape had become much less see through and it seemed to be suffering more under Fenris' blade. She hurled as many physical attacks as she could at the thing in quick succession, making it stumble. The floating objects around the room suddenly fell to the ground in a great cacophony of sound and the golem simply vanished, a small red shard falling to the ground at Varric's feet.

He knelt and picked it up as Hawke brushed herself off and rolled her shoulders against the beating she had taken during the fight. They were all looking a bit shabby if you asked her. She approached her friend as he lifted the shard. "This... this is a piece of the idol." He grunted. "I should have known Bartrand would lie to me. Of course he'd keep a piece of the statue for himself. Think of what we could do with this!"

Hawke shook her head. "I don't know about you, Varric, but I don't want to end up like Bartrand."

"I'm not my brother, Hawke," he scoffed. "The idol drove him crazy, but this is just one tiny piece! I need this thing! Six years of my life have gone into this!"

"And... there we go again," Anders said, his arms reaching out to the sides in frustration. "This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

Varric looked to Anders and his voice went soft. "This shard is my only hope of curing Bartrand. It's my only chance to set any of this right."

Hawke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe I'm saying this... If it means that much to you, keep the shard of craziness."

"No!" Anders scolded. "This thing is cursed. It can bring nothing but madness."

"It's not your call, Blondie," Varric said.

"Varric, I beg you, destroy this thing," Anders pleaded again.

"I can't," Varric hung his head. "I'm sorry. Let's get out of here. I've seen enough of this damnable house to last three lifetimes."

 

Hawke arrived at the Hanged Man a couple of days later after Varric gave her a, slim on details, run down of a meeting in the Hightown Market after dark that evening. She decided that she would have dinner there so she could spend some time with Varric and keep an eye on him. Before he came downstairs, however, she spotted Isabela sprawled in her usual seat by the hearth. She took her own seat across the table and grinned. Isabela glanced at her with an odd expression. "You... you're here. Good. I... wanted to talk to you."

"So when do I get the grand tour?" Hawke asked, with innuendo and her smirk steadfastly plastered on her face, feeling out what was on Isabela's mind.

"Haven't you already..." Isabela returned the devious grin and then chuckled. "Oh, you mean my ship." She flapped a hand. "It's not fit to be seen. Castillon had an obsession with mustard colored satin." She shuddered. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. Saves me the trouble of having to go look for you. I... wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. I'm glad you walked in here all those years ago."

"I was drawn in by the intoxicating aroma of stale piss and vomit," Hawke joked, making Isabela laugh.

"Now that I have my ship, I'll need a new crew, and I'd like to have someone like you on board. Someone I can really trust, who has my back, no matter what happens," Isabela offered.

"I can't just leave Anders," Hawke reminded her, flattered by the gesture.

"Who says you have to leave him? He could come along! I'm sure I could find some use for him," she said, wiggling her brows and smirking teasingly. "I'd just hate to have to say goodbye. You're the best friend I've had in... in a very long time." Isabela let out a self deprecating chuckle and held up her drink. Hawke mirrored her. "A toast, to friendship and to us."

They caught up for a few more minutes before Varric sidled downstairs. He parked himself in his usual spot and Hawke found herself leaning forward from her relaxed position and tapping her nails on her mug as she watched him. After a few minutes of conversation, he glanced at her and sighed in exasperation. "You're doing that nervous, twitchy thing again, Hawke. Don't worry! I'll be careful with the shard." He took a drink from his mug and then set it down casually. "You of all people know I'm trustworthy."

She sat back and made an exaggerated shrug with her mouth. "Me nervous? Nah, Cursed insanity causing shards of evil make me feel warm and fuzzy!"

"See?" he said in response to her sarcasm. "Nothing to worry about! What are you having?" He hailed down the waitress. "Edwina! Let's get a couple of drinks here."

His ability to make light of things made her feel a bit better and she dropped the subject, trying to relax. It seemed like all she did anymore was fret about things she had no control over. Especially Anders and whatever her had done in the Chantry. They had never spoken of it again and he was more than willing to pretend it had never happened. Fenris soon joined them and Hawke was able to relax even further as the conversation picked up. When they'd finished their meal, she, Varric and Fenris gathered their things and left to meet up with Anders at the mansion.

 


	20. The Heart of the Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke takes a vacation in Orlais.

Hawke and her usual crew strode into the Hightown Market late in the evening. The whole place was quiet. Hawke pursed her lips. "And of course, there's no one." She turned a questioning glare on Varric.

He shrugged and looked nervous. "All I know is it had something to do with you and nobles. Edge is usually very reliable."

"This is normally when we're ambushed," Fenris said in agitation, his neck swiveling as his fingers twitched near his blade.

"Why?" Varric asked with a snort, his arms outstretched. "It's not always an ambush." The words had barely left his mouth when the shifting of cloth and leather, coupled with the clatter of several weapons being drawn sounded out in the silence of the market. It rained bodies around them and suddenly, they were surrounded and severely outnumbered. "All right, maybe sometimes it's an ambush." He sighed.

Hawke's back pressed to the others as they formed a circle, each of them trying to get a count of their enemies and prepare to block any number of arrows that might come from the numerous bows cocked and aimed at them. "And there is the Champion of Kirkwall. You die today." She turned her head to get a look at the man threatening her. His accent was Antivan. Could these be more Crows?

Before she could retaliate with a smart remark, the man stumbled backwards with a dagger through his right shoulder. Hawke spun to follow the direction the blade had come from and to her surprise, there was an elf perched on the roof between the little spikes that were meant to keep birds from nesting. She was thin and lanky, like most elves and even from this distance, Hawke could tell that every inch of that was muscle. She wore brown, hide pants, plated with thin green cuissas pieces belted around her thighs and her tall boots were surrounded by leather greaves. Her green top did not leave much to the imagination. The thick leather hugged her slim waist, showing skin between it and her belt that housed more daggers than even Isabela carried and amplified her considerable bosom (for an elf). Matching vambraces protected her arms and beneath dark red hair pulled back in a loose tail, her wide mouth was drawn in a smirk that said, 'stand back, I've got this'.

The elf leapt from the roof, drawing her legs up under herself and landed atop a cloth awning, springing up immediately again to cartwheel the rest of the way down to the level just above Hawke and the others where she buried another dagger in the side of one of the archers with his bow trained on Hawke. She turned the dying man so his arrow loosed into the face of one of his fellows and then moved him back to the side as a meat shield against one of the other archers who had regained his wits and shot at her from across the market. She pulled the buried dagger from the man's ribs and slung it at the shooter, connecting with precision in his face. He toppled from the roof and she dropped the now dead meat shield, two more daggers appearing in her hands. She spun and slashed at the men charging at her. One she got a hold of and after the dagger slit his throat, she kicked him over the edge of the stone rail beside them and he landed near where Hawke was standing. Spinning out of the kick, she vaulted the rail herself as another of the men swung a massive two handed hammer for her. The hammer slammed uselessly into the stone and she landed on top of the man she'd kicked over, using him as a trampoline to flip once and then roll past Hawke a second time and slash the thighs of another attacker as she got to her feet. A second slash sealing his fate. She clashed with another as the trail of bodies behind her was growing impressive. She blocked his arms from swinging his weapon and did another double swipe of her daggers to drop the threat, pushing the body out of the way so she could meet the next challenger. Before he even reached her, she twirled, the daggers cutting his face to ribbons and she leapt on another man, riding him to the ground before burying the dagger in his chest and rolling smoothly to race for the still stunned man who had spoke and gotten a dagger to the shoulder.

All of this happened in less than a minute and even Hawke couldn't help her jaw hitting the ground as the elf paused in front of the man, her dagger dripping and poised against his throat. He boldly shouted to the remaining men. "Kill her! Kill all of them!"

She ripped the first dagger from his shoulder and as she spun to face Hawke with a grin, she slit his throat. "Well? What are you waiting for?" she urged before flitting off to do more killing.

Hawke shook off her shock and drew her staff as chaos erupted. "Who the blazes is that?" she wondered aloud over the din of the battle.

"Don't know!" Varric answered. "Kill people, then ask!" Bianca erupted in a flurry of bolts that hastily found the far off targets that still might pose a threat.

"Good plan!" The elf shouted back with a giggle as she caused mayhem in the enemy ranks. As soon as Hawke felled the final enemy, she spun to see the girl casually squatting beside one of the bodies. "Sloppy," she said, shaking her head and standing. She approached Hawke and the others, her hips swaying. "You'd think the Crows would be better at this. They've been doing it for ages."

Hawke swallowed and gathered her wits to return the elf's grin. "Interesting entrance. You have some fine moves."

The girl chuckled, pausing a short distance from Hawke. "I do, don't I?" She offered a polite curtsy, her ankles crossing as she bent her knees and flourished her arms outward. "My name is Tallis, and I've been looking for you." She smiled confidently, her blue eyes sparkling through a slip of hair that had fallen from behind her ear. Hawke noted the starburst of green amidst the blue of her large irises. It suited her pretty face.

"Looking for me?" Hawke asked with a quirked brow.

"Looking for the woman who has an invitation to Chateau Haine, to be specific," Tallis amended.

"That's what Edge was on about!" Varric said with realization as he put the puzzle together. "You remember. Duke Prosper, the one who fawned all over you at the Champion of Kirkwall Banquet. He talked about a hunt."

Hawke had tried extremely hard _not_ to remember the awkward banquet that had been thrown in her honor just after she had been named Champion. It was on the top of her list to repress. She curled her lip. "I doubt I'd go to such a thing," she said with a frown.

Tallis interrupted, drawing Hawke's attention again. "I was hoping you'd reconsider. The duke is a delightful host... or so I hear."

"Let me guess," Hawke said, crossing her arms. "This isn't just a social call?"

Tallis turned puppy dog eyes on Hawke and Hawke flinched. "I need to relieve him of something he has no right to possess, and I can't do it alone."

"You want to rob him," Hawke clarified.

"Stealing from Orlesians is never wrong. Or so I've been told," Varric said with a nudge to Hawke's elbow.

Anders huffed. "There's always a catch. Nobody ever helps us unless there's a catch."

Tallis tipped one of her feet, her toes twirling back and forth in place in a gesture of innocence as she said, "This isn't how I was planning to ask you this. I was picturing an introduction with... less blood."

Hawke shrugged. "I imagine if we did this... it'd be together, wouldn't it?" She wouldn't mind having Tallis at her back. She seemed extremely useful, as well as adorable.

"That's the idea," Tallis confirmed. "Or did you... have something else in mind?" Her coy and flirtatious smile made Hawke snicker softly.

"I'm standing right here, aren't I?" Anders said brusquely.

Hawke cleared her throat and said, "I just think we should get to know one another."

"I think I'd like that," Tallis agreed, her smirk never wavering.

"So tell me," Hawke shifted her stance to a more business like relaxed. "What exactly is it you want to steal?"

"A jewel," Tallis said haltingly. "The duke thinks it's valuable, and it is, just not in the way he believes. What's more, he shouldn't have it in the first place. He who wishes to walk on water must first learn to swim." When Hawke narrowed her eyes, Tallis said, "Come with me to Chateau Haine. I'll explain everything on the way. If nothing else, you get fine wine and fancy company. But..." she turned and headed toward the edge of the market, her hips swaying. "I hope you want more than that."

As Hawke watched her saunter off, Anders grunted. "So you trust this woman who just leapt off a rooftop into the middle of an ambush with the Crows?"

"I didn't have anything to do with the ambush," Tallis called over her shoulder.

"I wasn't asking if you did," Anders retorted.

"I'm pretty sure she's not a templar, Anders," Hawke snickered, taking off in a half jog to follow after Tallis. She had recently been thinking that she needed a vacation. What better way than a trip to Orlais for a party?

"Everywhere we go, people try to kill you," Fenris mumbled to Hawke.

She tipped her head and grinned. "You've been responsible for that yourself, on a few occasions."

Tallis snickered. "I'll fit right in, then."

 

Tallis had promised to explain on the way to Orlais and that she did. "The jewel we're after is called the Heart of the Many," she started, easing her horse up beside Hawke's.

"Interesting name," Hawke mused.

"Interesting jewel," Tallis agreed with a smile. "All I care about is getting it away from the duke. Here's the problem... the Heart is in a vault, behind who knows what kind of traps. Protected by a private army of Orlesian Chevaliers. All inside a fortress that was designed to be impregnable. And let's not forget it's on the side of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by monsters."

"So a typical Orlesian party, then?" Hawke said with a grin.

"It is at that," Tallis said with a chuckle.

They found their way across the Free Marches toward the border that separated them from Orlais. The journey took them four days on horseback and along the way, Hawke found herself relaxing like she hadn't in a very long time. Varric seemed to be back to his old self, and even Anders, away from Kirkwall for a bit was laughing and joking along with Tallis. She was fitting in quite well to Hawke's entourage and Hawke found herself jokingly asking Varric one night at the campfire "Can we keep her?"

His response was, "Don't you have enough stray elves?" Hawke pouted mockingly before shoving Varric playfully.

They arrived at Chateau Haine just as the hunt was beginning. According to Tallis, these things could last for days while the Orlesians titted around in the woods, chasing shadows and drinking. To get into the Chateau, they first needed the hunt to be over with. Hawke dismounted her horse and they all sidled up the path that was lined with banners in blue and gold, decked in the heraldry of Prosper's house. Hawke did not recognize the creature depicted. A man that she vaguely recognized as the Duke was speaking above the din of already tipsy hunters. "All right, everyone. You all know the tradition, yes? The first to find and slay a Wyvern wins the honors of the evening! And bragging rights, of course." He was dressed in a set of very loud finery that Hawke had a hard time looking away from. Tallis had informed them that she had provided each of them their own formal wear for after the hunt, and Hawke hoped she was not going to have to show up the duke. All of the colors were making her eyes go crossed. "Good luck to you all!"

As Hawke approached, they were stopped by a gruff man. His hair was braided along his scalp in rows and pulled into a tail at the back. He wore dark leathers and the mocha skin of his face was colored over by intricate swirling tattoos. Hawke recognized the designs as well as the craftwork of the man's double bladed two handed axe from her time in Lothering. "Lovely day for a hunt, don't you agree? Very... outdoorsy," she said as he blocked their path with his hulking body, arms crossed.

The duke noticed them and turned his loud clothing in their direction, the sun glinting off his helmet, the fop on top flapping in the breeze. Hawke resisted rolling her eyes. "Ah! The Champion of Kirkwall! These are honored guests," he said, shooing the burly man. Then he addressed Hawke directly. "Please excuse Cahir." He chuckled and waved his hand in a flourish. "A polite bodyguard is a contradiction in terms, or so I am told."

"A Chasind? Here?" Hawke pointed out as she kept one eye on the brute as he continued to stare at her.

"Ah, yes, you are Ferelden, aren't you? You would know of his people," the duke said proudly.

"I know of Darkspawn too, but I generally don't let them breathe on me," she said snarkily.

The duke laughed out loud, his body doubling briefly. "Oh, he breathes on all the guests. Think of it as a rite of passage!" The duke finally allowed his eyes to leave Hawke's person and they settled next on Tallis. "And who is this lovely specimen?"

"You flatter me, Your Grace," Tallis said politely.

Then Prosper's eyes flicked from Tallis to scan over Anders, Fenris and Varric before he said, "And I see you've brought a manservant or two, already armed and armored. Wonderful! I must say, your presence is a surprise. When we spoke at the banquet you seemed... uninterested when I mentioned our hunt."

Hawke flapped a hand. "It's a favorite pastime of mine to find things and kill them, actually."

The duke laughed loudly again, his overly animated mannerisms making Hawke nauseous as they blended with his colors. "So I hear! At any rate, I won't keep you from the hunt! Wouldn't want you to fall behind the others, yes?"

"I don't think I've ever encountered a wyvern before," Hawke said curiously.

"And why would you? They are exceptional beasts, magnificent cousins to the mighty dragon! My only advice? Beware their poison. It's the deadliest thing about them, as well as the most valuable," he said dramatically.

"Their poison is valuable?" Hawke asked, wondering what for.

"Indeed! From it can be brewed aquae lucidius, a libation adored even by the empress herself!"

Varric grunted. "You'd think she'd be against drinking poison, on principle."

Prosper scoffed. "Her Imperial Majesty is many things, 'careful' not being one of them. But here you are, wasting valuable time on questions! Do you wish the others to beat you to the prize?"

"The sooner we get to the celebration, the happier I'll be," Hawke quipped.

"Oh, I quite agree! The festivities cannot come soon enough. Good luck to you, my lady! Remember, fortune favors the bold."

Hawke bowed out of the conversation and they were stopped by another Orlesian. This one much more muted than the duke. "You have come a long way to join our duke, serah. You'll pardon me for saying that you do not seem like a hunter." Hawke wondered what could have given her away apart from the fact that she wasn't decked out in finery like the others, or that she wasn't drunk yet. "A word of caution, since you are new to this. Wyverns spit venom. Their victims suffer terrible pain before they die."

"Death is always the result, then?" she asked, suddenly nervous now that she had been warned by someone less foppish than the duke.

"Depending on exposure, it may take days, but yes, death is always the outcome if the poison isn't treated," he assured her.

"Slow, agonizing death? This sounds less and less like a fun outing in the woods," she quipped.

"Well the venom can be treated, though it is not simple to do so. A distillation of herbs... equal parts drakevein, Andraste's Mantle, and winterberry... can counteract the poison," the man explained as she glanced at Anders and he nodded. "May the Maker's luck grace your hunt. Be safe, serah."

Hawke and the others made their way onto the hunting grounds and Fenris grunted in displeasure. " 'Manservant'?"

Anders snickered and Varric chuckled. "Should be elfservant, if you think about it," Varric shrugged.

"It's only a cover," Tallis assured him with a smirk as Hawke walked past him and patted his shoulder.

"I'd like to cover him in six feet," Fenris sneered.

"So these are the hunting grounds," Tallis said, changing the subject.

"What are we supposed to do? Beat the bushes with sticks?" Anders wondered sarcastically.

Tallis rolled her eyes. "We just need to look for signs, and be careful. We get this over with, we get into the keep."

"And that's where the jewel is?" Hawke asked for confirmation.

And she received it. "That's where the jewel is," Tallis nodded.

Hawke was with Anders. The rest of the hunters seemed to be more interested in where their next bottle of wine was than actually finding a wyvern, so she could take no pointers from them. She headed off the beaten path, and the woods closed around them, cutting off a lot of the noise that was quickly rising in volume along the more open clearings. The others talked among each other as Hawke walked slowly along the trail, her eyes closed, breathing in the clean country air. It had been some time since she had been so far from Kirkwall. It was a nice change. Her tranquil musings were cut short when she heard an all too familiar sound. There was no way they had already stumbled upon a wyvern. She threw an arm out, stopping the others in their tracks and tipped her head to get a better listen in the sudden silence. The distinct chortling sounds of a dragonling drew her attention and the others drew their weapons. There were only a couple of the little bastards, but they attacked viciously, defending their parent who swooped in in an attempt to ruin their day. Tallis again showed how impressive she could be by easily getting around the dragon and slitting it's long neck. It was a small dragon, but the feat was still impressive.

"Invigorating!" Varric said, harnessing Bianca and rolling his shoulders. "But I doubt that was the point of the hunt."

"Do dragons and wyverns even mix? I don't think so," Tallis said thoughtfully.

Hawke tapped a finger on her chin. "So if we drop part of this in the right spot, we might lure a wyvern out to protect it's territory?"

"Good thought!" Tallis said, kneeling to cut a piece from one of the dragonlings and toss it in a sack which she slung over her shoulder. "Do that!"

They went back to their casual stroll, Hawke dragging her fingertips along the tops of some overgrown grass along the edge of the trail. Somewhere along the conversation family was brought up and Hawke heard Anders addressing her and she perked her ears to listen. "What was your father like?"

She hummed a chuckle as she fell back to walk with the others. "You could never get a straight answer out of the man. Everything was a joke. People say I take after him."

"You know, you're the only person I've met with a mage parent she actually remembers. At the Circle, any accidental babies are taken away before the mother even sees them," he sighed.

"And the Chantry says it's all about protecting families," she answered wistfully.

They went back to their conversation and Hawke made a point to chime in. It was nice to see her friends all getting along at what was essentially a social gathering. Not much further down their path, they came across a large smattering of blood that drew her attention. She broke away from Anders' side and knelt by the fresh pool. "A lot of blood. Would that be prey or from a wyvern itself?"

Tallis joined her and shrugged. "I've heard they fight for dominance. Can't be gentle."

"Maybe we can use some to draw out rivals..." Hawke suggested as Tallis pulled a vial from her belt and dipped it in the pool. "Added to what we have already, is it enough to draw one out of hiding?"

"I'd say so," Tallis agreed. "A little one. Probably all we need. In the right spot... no doubt."

A little one? Hawke pursed her lips. If she was going to get the duke's attention, she wanted more than a little one. As they continued on, she kept an eye out for more signs of wyverns. A strange pulsing began to heave over her skin as they passed a dip off the path. She was drawn to the right where a stone slab was laid out at the rear of a closed in clearing. "That altar is very old. And creepy," Tallis shuddered. "I wouldn't touch it."

Hawke, for once, decided to take someone else's advice when it came to poking around at things. The magic pouring around the clearing made her draw her hand away from the slab and back away. Anders and Varric soon began to engage in a word game and Fenris approached on Hawke's left. "You are too willing to involve yourself in the affairs of others, Hawke. Each time, you put yourself at risk. One day you will not be so lucky."

"You have a better idea?" she asked him, curious how he thought she should kill the boredom of everyday life.

He shrugged. "Guard what you have. Keep you head low."

She chuckled. "Like a dragon! Guarding my treasure hoard."

"That's not what I meant," he corrected with a smirk.

"Shall I eat passersby? Maybe I can demand virgin sacrifices!"

"Even dragons are eventually slain, Hawke," he scolded, still smiling in spite of his attitude.

Before she could answer, she heard a man's voice calling names into the woods. She followed the sound and came upon a fellow hunter. He looked relieved to see anyone else and asked briskly, "Have you seen a pair of coursers? I've been calling and calling but it is no use. Nicodemus should know better, but Sylvain never had an ounce of sense in his head."

Hawke frowned at the speed of his words and his accent. "Just so you're aware, I have no idea what you're talking about. But feel free to keep rambling."

The man sighed in frustration. "Fereldens... I've lost my dogs, of course. They took off after a stag, and the Maker only knows where they've gotten to now. Please, you must help me find them."

"If I find your dogs, I'll let you know," Hawke agreed, suddenly wishing she had brought Alfie along. He would have loved the romp through the woods. He rarely got out to the countryside anymore.

"May Andraste guide you," the hunter said in relief.

The path led them back toward the busier part of camp where they passed a group of tipsy hunters, standing around a short stump where a bottle of wine sat with a collection of glasses. "I'm told the wyverns roost in trees," one of the hunters whispered loudly. "Perhaps if we shake them?"

"You want to just stand back and watch?" Varric mumbled. "Should be good for a few laughs."

"Just ignore them," Tallis scolded, ushering them onward.

Anders had been gathering small bits of herbs from the list that the hunter had given them and when he paused and knelt, she stopped as well to wait with him. He stood from his crouch and showed her a multi colored feather that rested on his long fingers. "I think this is from a simir bird. The Tevinters hunt them. The feathers are supposed to have magical properties," he explained, lifting the feather by it's bone and tickling Hawke's nose with it. She actually giggled as she pushed him away playfully and he teased her with his smirk. She sauntered after the others who had gotten ahead of them and he rushed up behind her, pulling her into him so her back was pressed against him as they walked. He leaned over her left shoulder, avoiding the spikes of her vambrace on the right and hummed along her neck. "I wish we could stay like this forever, love." She turned her head to lay a gentle kiss on his lips and he released her to step to her side, his hand lingering along the small of her back. "This hobnobbing with the nobility suits you."

She snorted. "I suspect that's an insult."

He smiled back. "Meant in the best possible way. I knew the day I met you that you'd rise above the rest of the refugees. I wish there were more nobles who had to earn it."

Any sappy response she had was cut short as Tallis led them up a short rise and closer to the cliffs. She squeezed his hand briefly and followed the strange noises that had drawn Tallis in. "Well, well, well," she hummed as they left the trees and the noise began to echo around them.

"Is that... wyverns mating?" Tallis asked, her cheeks reddening and her lip curling slightly.

"Could we mimic that?" Hawke wondered, stepping up beside the elf.

"No!" Tallis' large eyes bugged. "Oh, the sound. Right, yes, I can try that."

Hawke shook her head and chuckled as Anders bent to clip some Andraste's mantle from the roadside and they continued on, trying to block out the mildly distubing nature sounds. Hawke was minding her business as she strolled, listening to the other hunters make fools of themselves from the other side of the treeline when Tallis startled her with a question. "Are you married?"

"Performing a survey?" Hawke asked, glancing at Anders briefly.

Tallis shrugged. "It's just you're the Champion of Kirkwall... Big. Important. I don't know. Just... wondering if there is a husband behind the throne."

Anders stepped between them. "Yes, who is behind your throne, Hawke?"

Hawke patted his cheek. "Let's keep moving..."

Tallis seemed to take the hint and hung back a bit before starting a different conversation. "Champion of Kirkwall? Fancy title..."

"The 'Only One in Kirkwall Not Completely Insane' was considered," she chuckled.

"So do you get a stipend? They let you rule the city?" Tallis wondered.

"They gave me a medal. It's shiny," she said mockingly and then changed the subject. She had never asked to be Champion and sometimes, taking about it just reminded her of what she had done to get there. She rubbed at her scar absently. "Just how long has this wyvern hunt been going on?"

Tallis allowed Hawke to steer the conversation and said, "It's an annual tradition the Montforts began to keep the population down. They breed quickly."

As they had already heard... "And the Orlesian nobility is only too happy to help out?"

Tallis scoffed. "It's a game. The Montforts are close to the Empress, so anything that pleases them is worth pursuing. Plus you should really try the aquae lucidius. You'll be seeing purple dragons in the sky for days."

"I'd like to know who thought of making a drink from poison. Was it an accident?" Anders wondered with a sneer.

"Forty crowns a bottle on the black market," Varric nudged Hawke's elbow. "Not that I've checked or anything."

Up ahead a breathless hunter stumbled from a fork in the road and hissed to his friend. "I think we've found something! We've a hint of the beast! After it!"

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he spun and Hawke rolled her eyes. He was going to get himself killed if he wasn't careful. She tipped her head in the same direction that the hunters ran off in and began to trudge after them. They came upon him and his friend leaning over a hole in the ground that was emitting a light smoke. "There is... something in there. A nest, perhaps?" he screamed as a small creature leapt from the hole and onto his face, snarling and then shrieking as it ripped at him with sharp claws.

It was lanky and hairless with large blue eyes peeking out from behind a helmet that looked to be made from an old discarded gauntlet. It held a long stick that outdid it's body in length and when it was finished tearing the hunter to shreds, it turned it's ugly, sharp toothed, lip-less mouth toward Hawke and the others and hissed. It scurried along the ground and more of them poured from the hole to swarm all around them. She knocked one off of Fenris' shoulders with her staff just as another jumped on her. A stonefist exploded right next to her head as Anders took care of her guest, slamming it against a rock. The creatures were fast, but colorful and easy to track. It seemed like hundreds of them poured from numerous holes all over the clearing like twisted little gophers that spat little darts from the sticks they carried. To have made poison darts, they had a modicum of intelligence. As Hawke's tempest petered out and no more skittering had her spinning in all directions to find the source, she panted and asked, "What in Andraste's name were those?"

"Ghasts," Tallis named them. "Cave creatures. They don't come out on the surface much, however."

Anders' brow rose as he pulled the poison from Hawke's many nicks with a spell and checked over the others as well. "Maybe they were out gathering hunters?" he joked, brushing a bit of blood off Hawke's cheek and grinning.

As Hawke approached the dead hunter, whose friend had fled when the ghasts attacked, she heard a soft whimpering from further in the trees. She cautiously approached and saw a half naked man huddled behind some trees. She pressed her lips together and approached the man, trying not to snicker. "Oh, Blessed Andraste, thank you. I thought I'd die out here! I've been trapped here since last night!"

Hawke crossed her arms. "I know I'm going to regret this, but... why are you standing out here in your smallclothes?"

"Ghasts were chasing me! I thought I could leave false trails... Truth told, I'm not looking for the wyvern. I'm a scholar from Cumberland, researching an Avvar cult that once lived here. They worshiped the Lady of the Skies to the exclusion of all other gods. I'm searching for their shrine."

Hawke glanced back at the others, remembering the sticky feeling altar they had come upon before. "I think I've been to your shrine. There were nothing but angry spirits at the site."

"Nothing else?" he wondered and then hung his head. "I had hoped... ah well. The rumors say they were driven from their last refuge. They left a great treasure in the goddess' keeping. But the mountain has defeated me. Please, take my research and see if you can do anything with it." Hawke took the papers that he had saved over his clothing and tucked them away thinking no amount of treasure was going to draw her back to that altar. "I will try to make it back to camp. Good luck to you, serah."

Passing into the eastern part of the hunting grounds, they came upon a lake surrounded by reeds and full of glistening water. "For a slaughtering ground, it's actually rather pretty," Hawke mused.

"The Montfort family inherited this mountain from a clan of Nevarran dragon hunters," Tallis explained. "Well, maybe inherited is the wrong word. What is it called when you kill someone in order to get all their stuff?"

"Adventuring!" Hawke snickered.

Fenris took hold of Hawke's arm and steered her away from a rather large steaming pile of droppings and Anders wrinkled his nose. "Well, it certainly smells like we're going the right way."

"There you go, Hawke. It seems we're on the trail," Tallis said with a grin.

"Someone alert the empress!" Hawke muttered.

Tallis nudged her and moved to the side of the path where she knelt and said, "Oh! A wyvern kill! Some kind of... halla or something?"

Hawke knelt beside her and gingerly poked at the bloody mess. "That... could be a tunic."

"Don't know, don't care," Tallis stood and dropped her sack to the ground to add some of the remains. "It's bait they liked for some reason."

They were soon attacked by more ghasts and Tallis shouted. "Watch out! Big-hat ghast!"

Hawke spun and saw what Tallis was talking about. "Big hats are never good!" she grunted as the ghast in question drew on the magic in the air and cast. When they had beat down the dozens that came at them, Hawke brushed herself off. "Bloody things..."

"I think that's the last of them. For now," Tallis mused, glancing around.

"How many are there usually?" Hawke asked with only mild concern.

"A ghastling nest can often be a hundred or more. Just be thankful we're not underground," Tallis said chipperly.

Around the next bend, a dog sat in the middle of the path. When it spotted them, it jumped up and darted in the opposite direction, barking noisily and turning to bark at them. "Look! I think he wants us to follow him," Tallis pointed.

Hawke wondered what the dog might be leading them to. After following him to another hound who had been poisoned by a wyvern, Hawke had Anders use the small amount of antidote they had gathered to save the suffering dog. He perked up almost immediately and licked Hawke before charging after the first dog and back towards the camp. As they headed back down from the small offshoot path that they had been on, Varric said, "Watch it. Ghast hole."

Hawke paused as it sounded like something very different. "A what hole?"

He chuckled. "A scholar might call it something else, but they don't know their ghasts from a hole in the ground."

Hawke groaned and Anders said, "And they call me the monster."

"That one actually hurt," Fenris mused.

"Why do you bad-touch words like that?" Hawke asked groaning. Varric shrugged still grinning and awfully proud of himself.

They were beginning to see more and more of the steaming piles of wyvern droppings all along the trails as they forged further from the camp. Hawke paused beside one of them and grunted, picking up a stick and poking amidst the pile. "Ugh, looking for clues..." she choked around the stench that wafted upwards.

"Aww, Hawke stepped in the poopy," Fenris taunted, earning him a glare from her.

She was getting nowhere with the stick so she sighed and removed her gloves, kneeling and holding her breath as best she could. "Ugh! Until you wash that off, Hawke, I'm going to stay upwind," Varric complained.

The dung shifted and Tallis squatted beside Hawke with fascination. "Ooh, nug bones. I wonder if a nug call would help attract a wyvern."

Hawke stood and moved to the small stream trickling past nearby and dipped her arms in, washing off the worst of the mess. "You know a nug call?" she asked skeptically.

Tallis grinned sideways. "You go elbow deep in wyvern shit and I'm the weird one?"

Hawke conceded her point and stood, pulling her gloves back on after wiping the moisture on her thighs. "We must have enough to bait a trap now."

"In the right spot, no doubt," Tallis agreed enthusiastically.

The forest road narrowed into a game trail, strange noises pulling Hawke further along the overgrown path. A mist began to form as they climbed higher into the mountain and the air chilled slightly. Hawke was just starting to realize that they had wandered so deep into the woods that the sounds from camp were nonexistent.

"Wait," Tallis said softly. "What happened to the birds and... everything? Uh oh..."

Hawke felt Anders react to the lack of nature sounds, a barrier caressing up around the group. As they continued on cautiously, Hawke broke the silence. "Next time, could we hunt something small and cuddly? Maybe vegetarian?"

The trees opened up into a nice sized clearing and Tallis said, "Well, the trail suggests wyverns just love this place to bits. If we're going to find one, it'd be here. They stepped into the clearing and Tallis began to circle it, looking for the right spot. She stopped along the back of the tree line and grinned. "Yes, I think this would be the place to find a wyvern. And room enough to kill the thing without getting sat on. She dropped her sack and placed a hand on her hip. "They're not stupid, though. We'll need some really good bait."

Hawke matched her grin. "Lay it all out! I'm bringing the duke a trophy to talk about."

Yes!" Tallis said excitedly, pumping her fist, and then cleared her throat and said, "I mean, if you're sure. Let's get to it. We've a lot of stuff to lay out, for starters." She knelt by the sack and opened it up, making no expression to show she cared one way or the other about the smell that wafted out. She dove in, pulling out the bits of dragon and the other pieces of the 'halla' they had found in the other part of the woods. "Right, now the blood." She opened the vial they had collected and poured it over herself, making Hawke take a disgusted step back, her lip curling. "What? The prey needs to be moving, doesn't it?" She stood. "Okay, I'll do the sound. You get ready. Don't... look at me while I do this..."

She cupped her hands around her blood stained mouth and began to make an ungodly racket that had Hawke chuckling inwardly. It was a cross between the squeak of a nug and the noises of wyvern mating that they had heard earlier. Hawke covered her smile with a hand and asked, "Was that... good?"

"You want to do it?" Tallis asked in annoyance. "Didn't think so..." The noise started up again and Tallis began to dance around the clearing, her arms flailing to spread the scent into the air. Suddenly, she stopped as a few branches in a nearby tree began to crack and shake. Faster than Hawke realized they were, a huge creature darted from the trees and leapt to the ground. Unimportantly, Hawke now knew what creature Prosper had on his heraldries. It was easily the length of a full grown drake, if not larger, and it moved swiftly on all fours. It had wings that spread from it's muscular front legs and it reminded Hawke of a lion fish in the face. It lifted it's head and let out a bellow that nearly made Hawke clap her hands over her ears if she hadn't been reaching for her staff to defend herself. It's bottom jaw split in two parts, saliva spraying as it roared.

It dove from the trees and Tallis rolled out of it's path. It quickly changed direction to careen toward Hawke. She whipped her staff around, infusing her arms with some physical magic as she bonked the thing directly in it's forehead. It paused it's charge to shake it's head vigorously and then turned to glare at Hawke. She twirled her staff and egged it toward her so that Varric, Fenris and Tallis could get behind it. It reared up and Hawke quickly threw herself out of the way as it spat like a cobra, the venom sizzling on the ground where she had just been standing. They needed to kill this thing fast. She slung a few fireballs at the wyvern, one of them making it inside the thing's mouth as it opened it again to spit in Anders' direction. It sputtered and swung it's body around, attempting to swipe at the ring of enemies around it with it's muscular tail. Tallis jumped over the tip of it as it passed her and slung three throwing knives at it as it's head came into view before her. Hawke heard them crackle as they made contact and realized that Anders had infused everyone's weapons with frost magic. Fenris danced in and out of the wyvern's reach, but for it's size, it was fast and several times, it tried to trip him up as he swung his large greatsword. Varric was turning the thing into a pincushion, it's body beginning to match the protrusions around it's face. Hawke adjusted her footwork to avoid the patches of grass around the clearing that were steaming with venom as the wyvern took shots at all of them. The beast was an alpha from it's sheer size and Hawke was concerned that with all of the noise they were making and the trumpeting of the wyvern that they would be descended on by more wyverns, but unlike dragons, apparently, wyverns were loners. It fought with ferocity, but she and her friends were soon gaining the upper hand. It dove one last time for Hawke and she quickly twirled her staff, her fingers lighting on the lever that released her blade. It shot out and she heaved the blade outwards. It connected with the wyvern's open mouth, burying it upwards into the creature's brain. It fell, Hawke quickly pulling her blade free and dancing out of the way of the toppling body.

No sooner had she returned her staff to her back, her breath panting out around her rapid heartbeat, than a voice laced with anger and an orlesian accent greeted her. "Well if it isn't the Ferelden turnip." She turned to see who was addressing them with such an odd nickname and saw a finely dressed hunter flanked by several hired chevaliers. He sashayed toward her as the others gathered at her back, all bloodied and sweating. "They say you are a Champion of some backwater city in the east. Quite an achievement, I'm sure." He paused a good distance from them, posing with his body turned to the side and his hands balled into fists and elbows away from his body to give the impression that he was larger than he really was. "I suggest you run along with your servants while you have the chance. This wyvern was mine to kill, not yours." He began to gesture emphatically as he spoke, but nothing prepared Hawke for the childish display that followed. He stamped his foot with each word, like a child in a tantrum. "Mine, mine, mine!" Hawke felt herself recoiling and barely held it together as Anders and Varric both snorted behind her. "I paid good coin to be the one who wins this contest! It was my turn!"

"Oh," Hawke said, swallowing the chortle that threatened to escape with her words. "I didn't realize the duke was offering charity to his more useless guests. My mistake."

The man gasped. "I will not accept such talk from a backwater mongrel!"

Tallis was frowning. "You do realize this woman has nasty little thugs like you for breakfast, I hope."

"Only when we're out of pancakes," Hawke amended airily.

"More insolence! From a knife ear this time! I can take no more of this! Kill them all. We can say the wyvern was too much for them," he growled, throwing his arms in the air.

His chevaliers began to advance on Hawke and her group. They were only slightly outnumbered and the man-child had no mages in his group. It was an easy task to knock them back, but the fight had barely begun when the man fell to his knees in defeat and Duke Prosper showed up out of nowhere. The sound of their fighting must have drawn everyone else from the camp. "Now what is going on here?" the duke asked with a gasp.

The man got to his feet. "Prosper! This blasted she-bitch tried to steal my rightful kill!"

Prosper tsked. "Now is that any way to speak of the Champion of Kirkwall, Baron?"

Hawke looked to the Baron and grinned as Prosper took her side. The baron retaliated in irritation. "This is your fault for inviting a stinking turnip in the first place! Your mother would be ashamed!"

The duke chuckled. "Says the man whose mother has slept with half of Val Chevin." He looked away from the steaming Baron and addressed Hawke. "My apologies. Arlange has always been a cheat. What would you have done with him?"

"You're not suggesting..." Tallis growled angrily before Hawke could answer.

"Why not? You believe Arlange would have stopped short of murder, given the chance?" The duke asked Tallis with a raised brow.

Hawke tended to agree with Tallis. She wasn't going to have a man put to death because he was a child trapped in a man's body. "His blood smells worse than the wyvern's. Best keep it where it is."

"You hear that, Arlange? It behooves you to leave while you still can," the duke said in warning.

"I... fine. I will go," he grunted, obviously knowing better than to argue.

As soon as he was out of sight, the duke smiled at Hawke. "Congratulations on finding the wyvern. It looks like a fine one, indeed! There will be a celebration in the chateau courtyard. Do attend when you're ready."

Prosper left them, heading back towards camp and Tallis looked at Hawke with surprise. "You let him go? That was... very merciful."

"That's not a bad word, you know," Anders replied in response to the way Tallis had said 'merciful'.

She glanced between them and sighed before her usual upbeat expression returned. "We should go to the chateau. Time to practice your table conversation."

Hawke spoke, altering her voice as she said, "And my orlesian accent!"

Tallis chuckled and they headed off toward where their things were.

 

After they were cleaned up and changed into their party clothes, Hawke met up with Tallis, unsure where the boys had gotten to. The outfit that Tallis had brought for her was a simple pair of trousers, dyed a royal purple. A feminine doublet with lightly puffed sleeves in powder blue was paired with a darker blue vest, fitted perfectly to Hawke's curves. The fancy boots also fit perfectly. How Tallis had gotten her measurements before even meeting her was beyond Hawke. Tallis, dressed in long black pants that flared out over her shoes and a long teal shirt that hugged her thin waist and fell off both shoulders, defying gravity, smiled and appraised Hawke in the finery. After smiling, she led Hawke out of the walled off changing area and out toward the courtyard where the other guests were mingling and she spotted her friends in more perfectly tailored clothes. Fenris looked extremely put out and she realized that short of naked, it was rare for her to see him dressed in anything that wasn't his fitted armor. She smirked as he scowled and Anders peered at her over the glass of wine in his fingers, grinning in appreciation. Tallis spoke as they approached the boys. "I had a quick look around. There's one door into the castle that isn't under heavy guard..."

"I hear a 'but' coming, Varric sighed.

Tallis shrugged angrily. "I can't get it open. And believe me, I tried. Bent a nice set of lockpicks in that stupid door." She shook her head and grimaced. "One of the duke's guardsmen must have the key. They wouldn't just lock themselves out of the castle! I hope."

Hawke snickered. "Why else would the party be in the garden? He probably has someone breaking a window right now."

Tallis pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "I... could make that work, actually. But in the meantime, let's find someone with a key."

Anders sighed. "We should split up. We'll just attract attention stomping through the middle of the party together."

Hawke nodded in agreement. "Tallis and I will look for the key. In the meantime, scout out the castle for another way in."

Anders leaned in to kiss Hawke's cheek gently before moving off with Varric and Fenris who walked uncomfortably in the shoes on his feet. "Let's see what we can find out. Come on!" Tallis took Hawke's elbow eagerly and led her into the middle of the garden where most of the other guests were already milling about and drinking.

They hadn't gotten far when they were stopped by the duke, his cheeks already reddening from whatever drink he had been imbibing. "Ahhhhh! At last, our mighty heroine!" As Hawke stopped beside him, she took note of the ragged and bent cage with thick iron bars that was tucked in behind Prosper. Inside it was a grumpy looking wyvern the size of a house that seemed rather put off by the collection of Orlesians around it's cage. "The Champion of Kirkwall has the honor of first kill this day! To hut the wyvern on its own ground is to tempt fate. A terrible risk. But the prize... I present to you this belt crafted of fine wyvern skin. Wear it well, and accept the accolades you are due!" Prosper handed over a wide belt and Hawke accepted it with a short bow.

"If anyone wants to laud my heroic achievements, I'm happy to listen," she said with a grin.

"Well said!" Prosper added with a chuckle. The large wyvern let out an irritated roar and went back to the raw meat it had been ripping apart as the cluster of lookey-loos tittered in both fear and amusement. "Do not mind Leopold. My pet is always so temperamental before dinner."

A giant wyvern for a pet? Orlesians... "I don't suppose Leopold knows how to fetch or play dead?"

"Alas," Prosper sighed with a short laugh. "He seems to think it's our duty to amuse him." Then he turned his attention to the party again, "My friends! I officially welcome you to Chateau Haine! Enjoy a taste of Orlesian hospitality!"

Tallis took Hawke's arm again and pulled on it gently, leaning to whisper close to her ear. "I see several men who might be captains in the duke's guard. One of them should have a key."

Hawke nodded, smiling at a few other guests as they gathered around Leopold's cage. She and Tallis fell into socializing, discreetly circling the gardens. Among the guests that they ran into was Dulci de Launcet, whom Hawke attempted to avoid, Arl Teagan, whom she remembered as King Alistair's 'sort of' uncle, Seneschal Bran, with a rather unconventional 'woman' on his arm, and a woman that Hawke knew from her time as a smuggler that mixed up potions, Lady Elegant. Finally, Tallis nudged her toward one of the guards that stood outside one of the doors. He looked bored with his post and when they approached them, he scowled and asked rudely, "Can I help you?"

In true Hawke fashion, she believed that the guard should not need to be quite so bored at such a riveting party. She gripped her wrist dramatically and cried out. "I've been stung by a bee! I think it's swelling! Maker, am I dying?" she gasped noisily, still clutching her wrist.

Tallis fell in with the trick, gasping as well. "The swelling is almost as big as your head! Don't just stand there, man! Do something before it's too late!"

The guard sputtered and before he could respond, Hawke dropped to her knees and said louder than necessary, "If I die... make sure the world knows... I died at Chateau Haine!"

The guard scoffed. "There is no need for such drama. Come with me. I will see what I can do."

He waved them after him and turned to head for one of the single rooms off the garden. "Leave him to me," Tallis said with a wink as Hawke climbed to her feet and brushed off the knees of her pants. "A few minutes alone, and I can get us the key to the chateau."

Hawke grabbed a goblet from a passing servant's tray and Tallis slipped into the room after the guard, closing the door behind her. Hawke leaned casually on the wall beside the door and listened as Tallis charmed the guard. "Lovely party," she said as a few other guests passed her, and gave her looks like they wondered why she was standing alone. Finally Tallis came from the room with a sour look on her face. "Well?" Hawke wondered, setting the now empty cup on a ledge nearby.

"He doesn't have it," Tallis sighed.

"What?" Hawke grumbled.

"He 'forgot' he'd given the key to one of the servants. What kind of guard forgets that he's locked himself out of the castle?"

Hawke nudged Tallis out of her grim expression. "We'll go out there and mingle until we find a way in! Or get so full of caviar and wine we fall asleep."

"Right, Nothing to worry about. This can still work." Tallis started slowly back to the middle of the garden where a large fountain stood, water trickling from the mouths of several lions poised back to back in the middle. "So let's find this servant. How many could there be?"

"One for every cheese tray?" Hawke assumed with a smirk as she spotted a familiar face.

"I'm trying to stay positive, you know," Tallis murmured as Hawke approached Leliana.

"Sister Nightingale?" The red head was wearing a soft pink dress that reached to the floor, it's long sleeves tapering at the wrists. It was bejeweled delicately around the neck and bodice, matching beautifully against the blue of her eyes.

Leliana turned a smile on Hawke which brightened when she recognized her. "Champion! It is good to see you again, under less... dire circumstances. I... Tallis?" as her eyes fell on the elf, she let out a soft gasp as her carefully trained mask slipped very briefly.

"Leliana! It's so lovely to see you again!" Tallis said with as much shock as Leliana.

They exchanged a brief cheek kiss and Leliana said, "You look stunning this evening! Your hair is darling! Did you do it yourself?"

"I get the distinct impression you've met before," Hawke prodded, wondering where Leliana and Tallis might know each other from.

"Oh, briefly. A long time ago," Tallis said quickly.

Leliana smiled and offered Tallis a very short nod that did not escape Hawke's attention as it was meant to. "You meet all sorts of people in Orlais. It keeps life exciting."

"Well, I'm glad you two had this chance to chat," Hawke said, her eyes still narrowed.

"Yes! It was... very... fortuitous," Tallis said carefully choosing every word. "We shouldn't take up more of your time, Leliana. I'm sure you have... things. That need attention. Right now."

As Tallis led her off, Hawke shoved her suspicions from her mind and looked for the servant that seemed to have a freshly replenished tray. She approached an olive skinned elf with light blonde hair who smiled beatifically at them and bowed slightly. "Can I interest you in some Antivan olives? Or I have smoked ham from the Anderfels. They say it tastes of despair."

"Wait," Tallis said with interest. "Does it really? How can ham taste like despair? Why would anyone eat it if it did?"

The elf gave a small smile. "That's what the importer said. They all talk like that. 'This wine has notes of oak and springtime. This cheese tastes of sorrow'."

"Who needs more despair in their diet?" Hawke wondered. "What is that good for?"

The elf tittered softly. "I've heard that artists are fond of it."

Tallis grinned mischievously. "I don't suppose we could have a peek at the kitchens? I'd love to see this hopeless dish in all it's glory."

The girl bit her lip. "I don't know. I shouldn't leave my post."

"What a scandalous reprieve from olive duty! Think of what the other servants will say!" Hawke encouraged.

The elf grinned and giggled. "The upstairs maids will be so jealous when they find out. Very well, follow me!"

Tallis went after the girl and Hawke again waited by the door they had disappeared into. "Avoid the cheese plate," she whispered around her full cup as a few other guests wandered past. "Terrible..." When Tallis finally reemerged, Hawke started. "Have you got the key?" she asked Tallis, wiping some of the wine that had sloshed onto her fingers, off on her pants.

"I'm usually better at this," Tallis admitted defeat, wringing her hands. With a sigh she continued. "She didn't have the key either. This isn't supposed to be so complicated!"

"Maybe we could steal dessert spoons and start tunneling under the wall," Hawke quipped, downing the rest of her drink and sighing as well.

"That's not terrible. Hang on to that idea," Tallis smirked. "The servant says she gave it to the duke's son, Lord Cyril. Let's find him and hope he didn't pass it on to his father."

Hawke hunted down Lord Cyril and approached him and the group of men he was chatting with. "Excellent! Join us, Champion! We were just discussing your famous confrontation with the Qunari leader," he said in a thick Orlesian accent.

Hawke flinched at the mention of the Arishok and another of the men piped up. "You must tell us the tale! It was the talk of Denerim for months!"

At Hawke's expression, Cyril frowned and shooed the other man, apparently understanding that she was uncomfortable with the topic. When the other man had gone to speak with a servant, Cyril smiled. "You have never been to Chateau Haine, yes? Please, allow me to give you this Caprice. It is an old custom." Hawke took the shiny gold coin from Cyril and smiled, the bit of gold reminding her of a collection of the coins that her mother had kept when she was a girl. "My mother spoke often of Leandra. They were great friends when they were young. It is a shame neither could be here."

Suddenly, a shrill and taunting voice rose above the general buzz of conversation and with a giggle, the girl asked. "Where are your knickers this time, Perrin?"

The man that Cyril had shooed away turned with a grimace and shouted back. "Shut up, you painted shrew!"

Cyril shook his head and cleared his throat. "What entertaining manners our guests have. Don't you agree, Hawke?"

She quickly changed the subject, not having any interest in why the mere mention of knickers had sent the man into a frenzy. "Tallis here has been asking such fascinating questions about the garden, but I can't answer them."

Cyril sighed. "I suppose I can do my duty for the family and show her around."

When they disappeared, Hawke got herself another drink, chuckling to another of the guests. "That wyvern blood has some kick, doesn't it?"

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Tallis found Hawke again, her expression still more sour. "This is officially my worst night ever."

"Not Lord Cyril's type?" Hawke teased.

"Maybe he just doesn't like elves. Or women. Well, you've got one of those factors covered. He has the key... Go get it," Tallis took Hawke's unfinished drink and downed it quickly as Hawke frowned. "What? It's your turn, Hawke. Go on..." Tallis pointed where she had left Cyril.

"Seems like I could save time and just assume a plan will fall apart from the start," Hawke grumbled.

"It hasn't fallen apart! It's just... not entirely cooperating with reality." She smiled. "Just... go try something."

Hawke rolled her eyes and went to find Cyril. He met her with a grin and said, "Tell the elf that her pleas are for nothing. She's pretty enough, I suppose. No doubt there are some men who would like that sort of thing." he shrugged.

Hawke smirked and turned on her charm. "I thought you might be a man of... refined tastes."

She approached him slowly, picking out the glint of a key ring riding his hip. "I have a great appreciation for beauty..." he agreed.

She leaned in close to him, and allowed her breath to tease over his neck, distracting him as she wiggled her fingers and magically pulled the key from it's hiding place. Palming it, she whispered in his ear. "Why don't we talk again, after the party?" tracing her fingertips down his sleeve, she backed away and grinned mischievously before leaving him beet red and flustered.

Outside the door, Tallis pounced. "You have it. Tell me you have it."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Hawke asked with a smirk.

"Good. Then we can find the... jewel and get this over with," she went back to wringing her hands.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Hawke pouted at the rush. This heist had been a welcome change of pace from the rest of her problems and she wasn't keen on ending it so soon.

Tallis smiled genuinely and said, "I can't imagine anyone I would rather attend an Orlesian party with. Even if you are human." She reached out and patted Hawke's arm. "Let's find that door and get inside."

Tallis led her to the door and Hawke was unable to find the others before they slipped insde. It was a back entrance that led to the kitchens and servants' wing. After the third corridor, a guard was caught unawares by them as they burst through the door. "What in the name...?" he sputtered.

Tallis held up her palms. "There's no need for you to die today, friend. Just move on. You never saw us."

"Thieves!" the man shouted, but the word never finished to echo outwards. A dagger was poking from his throat. He fell with a spray of blood and Tallis tsked.

"You could have walked away," she said sadly as she approached him and pulled the knife from his throat and closed his eyes.

"Of course he didn't walk away. That'd be a bad trait in a guard," Hawke pointed out, wondering at why Tallis was so bothered.

"I know that," Tallis snapped, looking up at her.

"It's not like his family can say, 'we thought he only had to bake cookies'." She continued.

"There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination," Tallis murmured. "Enough. We're here for the Heart." She stood and moved back to stand in front of Hawke. "I'd like to do this quietly. Alert as few guards as possible. What do you think?"

Hawke nodded. "Don't relish the thought of two dozen guards chasing me round the chateau. Quiet's the way to go."

Tallis balked before smiling. "I'm glad you agree. Let's go." They hurried forward, Tallis stopping them just down the hall from the kitchen. "This part of the chateau will be crawling with guards. We'll have to try our best to keep out of sight. Or we could try to create distractions. Provided you're good at throwing stones."

"And if all else fails," Hawke whispered. "we'll give them a sharp knock on the head."

"Right, of course. Just try not to do it all the time. All right. I'm ready when you are."

 

By the time they made it through the castle's bowels, Hawke wished that she was as good at cloaking herself in shadows as Tallis was. Her fist was bruised from knocking so many of the guards over the head with magically enhanced punches, and her heart was thumping rapidly from so many near misses. In spite of the discomfort, she felt exhilarated and she was grinning as they approached the door that Tallis told her would lead them to the vault. She had even stopped in the kitchen to catch her breath after the cook nearly exposed them and took the time to play a prank on the massive pet wyvern's dinner, adding more lutefisk and navet than was likely advisable to the barrel.

Her good mood was interrupted as they passed through an archway and a wrought iron gate slammed closed behind them. "It's never as easy as it seems, is it?" Hawke mused, spinning to see what the racket had been.

Tallis looked horrified. "I swear, I didn't know! There must be some sort of switch..."

They were lucky there was two of them, the small pressure plates on the floor requiring them to move in synchronicity. When they finally heard the door click open, Hawke sighed in relief. On the other side, they stepped into a wide hallway and Tallis glanced around with a concerned expression. "Something wrong?" Hawke asked.

"I don't know," she said hesitantly, reaching up to scratch her head. "Yes..."

"Don't fret my dear." Tallis spun around as the duke's voice came from the opposite side of the room. Hawke turned to look at him, power crackling in her fists as Tallis drew her daggers from Maker knew where, and the duke's men surrounded them. They put their backs together and slowly moved in a circle so Tallis was facing the duke.

"I see the party's moved indoors?" Hawke mused, not seeing a way out of the flurry of men.

"It's not over yet," Tallis said soothingly, sensing Hawke's fears.

"But it is over," the duke corrected. "I knew who you were the moment you arrived, assassin."

"Assassin?" Hawke gasped, reigning in her magic to turn and face Tallis. "I thought we were here to steal a jewel."

The duke found Hawke's lack of information highly amusing and he laughed to show it. "Then she didn't tell you! The elf is a Qunari."

"You're... Qunari?" Hawke asked, her gut sinking as she glanced at Tallis.

"It's... complicated," Tallis said, her voice catching.

Hawke paused, sizing up the woman she had spent the better part of the last week getting to know. Then she sighed. "Everyone's got to have a job, don't they?"

"My! She chose you well, didn't she?" Prosper taunted as Tallis cocked her head in surprise.

After her brief confusion, she turned a glare on Prosper. "Look, I came to stop the Heart from doing something we will all regret. She didn't. Leave her out of this."

"And waste all the effort I spent luring you here before the Heart's arrival? Don't be foolish," the Duke said dismissively.

"Asay hassatra maas," Tallis said through gritted teeth.

The duke answered in kind. "Maas avastrasa kulun. Take them away."

Tallis turned a wary eye on Hawke as they were led in manacles down to the Duke's extensive dungeons. Hawke admired the view as they were tossed into a cell together. Tallis immediately slumped against the back wall and sighed heavily as she slid down it to the floor. Hawke examined the thick bars as she rubbed the soreness from her wrists. After a short silence, Tallis spoke. "I have a question." Hawke turned to watch her, raising a brow for her to continue and then sat on the small bench that was situated against the opposite wall. "When the duke told you what I was, you said you didn't care. Was that true?"

Hawke leaned forward, her knees parted and her elbows resting on them and shrugged. "I would have said he couldn't compare to your awesomeness, but that might have seemed petty."

Tallis shifted her seat and folded her legs up underneath her. "I am sorry. This didn't work out like I'd planned... obviously."

"What was your plan, exactly?" Hawke wondered.

"The one I expected to find is named Salit, a member of the Ben-Hassrath... the Heart of the Many." She paused and stood, starting to pace. "I was told he's here to sell secrets to the Orlesians, and I came to stop him. I... suppose I was misinformed."

Hawke hung her head and felt the fist around her chest tighten. "So did you really involve me just because I had an invitation?"

Tallis smiled briefly. "You were the only one on the invitation list who wasn't a personal friend of the Montfort family. And you're also the Champion of Kirkwall. And a Ferelden with no reason to love Orlais."

"And what was going to happen when all this was over?"

Tallis looked sheepish. "I thank you, we go our seperate ways?"

"So I just fell off the Ferelden turnip cart, is that it?" Hawke spat, her feelings hurt.

"Truth?" Tallis said softly. "You're... not exactly what I was expecting. I've heard a few stories about you. They don't quite do you justice. Perhaps if I'd done my homework, I would have known more about you. Given you the respect you deserve. Nothing I can do about it now."

That was something at least. Hawke sighed and changed the subject, not wanting to talk about the mild betrayal due to unforeseen circumstances. "So you came here to stop this Salit from betraying your people?"

"You probably won't believe me, but this isn't a political mission. It's... personal."

"What do you mean?"

Tallis sighed. "Salit was my bessrathari... the one who recruited me into the Ben-Hassrath. My tutor. He's the one who saw my potential, convinced me that I could make a difference. It doesn't matter now." She brushed obvious pain aside, cringing."

"But you said he was selling secrets," Hawke goaded.

"He is, or at least he intends to. One last act of defiance. I can't let him do that... Not when he'll hurt so many others in the process."

"You mean he'll hurt other Qunari," Hawke distinguished.

Tallis got defensive, stepping toward Hawke. "Not every Qunari is a soldier, you know. There are tens of thousands of farmers, artisans, craftsmen... People who have never hurt anyone. People whose only crime is living. They don't deserve what he's going to do to them. But it's more than my duty to stop Salit. It is my moral obligation."

Hawke was silent for a moment, allowing Tallis' words to sink in. She was just another bleeding heart. Much like Hawke herself. Hawke sighed and looked up, seeing that Tallis was leaning against the wall and looking down. "You mentioned the Heart of the Many before. But you said it was the name of the jewel."

Tallis returned her gaze to Hawke. "It's also what Ben-Hassrath means. Some people say we're enforcers that keep the Qunari in line, but that's not it. It's hard to explain."

Hawke set a dry and emotionless expression on Tallis. "Try."

Tallis pushed away from the wall and began to pace again. "We're... the soul of the Qun. We keep its spirit alive and protect it, from both outside and from within." She paused and turned her large eyes on Hawke. "Not every Qunari agrees. Nor do they always do what is best for all. The Ben-Hassrath remind us of our common goal."

"You make them seem almost peaceful," Hawke hummed.

"It's not always meant to end in violence. There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination," Tallis repeated. Then she hung her head and shook it shamefully. "I probably don't sound very convincing."

"The way you're talking... it sounds like you're one of these Ben-Hassrath," Hawke guessed.

"I am. Or I was," Tallis agreed. "Whether I ever am again... I guess that remains to be seen."

"Is that why you're here? To redeem yourself?"

"Not to them. Doubt is the path one walks to reach faith. To leave the path is to embrace blindness and abandon hope."

"Another Qunari proverb?" Hawke asked gently.

Tallis grinned briefly. "She who swallows wisdom in tiny chunks avoids choking."

Now that she had learned the facts about what Tallis was, she felt the need to know _who_ Tallis was. She sighed before asking the next hurtful question. "So everything you told me was a lie."

"Not everything!" Tallis insisted, boldly stepping over to Hawke and gripping her shoulder.

"So I just missed the part where you're one of the people I drove out of Kirkwall," she said snidely.

Tallis dropped her hand and frowned. "You don't need horns to embrace the Qun. What you need is a purpose. A belief in unity, in improving the lot not only for your own people but for everyone."

Hawke sat back and sarcasm dripped from her lips. "You're right. I can think of many people who would be improved by the loss of a head."

Tallis scoffed and backed away from Hawke to cross her arms. "You're joking, but you're also right. That doesn't mean it's the solution for everyone."

"So everyone else just loses a foot? Maybe a big toe?"

Tallis' voice rose slightly. "Being Qunari doesn't automatically mean you're a zealot. Most Qunari don't even understand humans, why you act like you do. But I grew up among you. I understand perfectly well."

"Wait... Aren't you here to kill someone for the Qunari?" Hawke accused.

"I never said I was killing him for the Qunari..."

"So you're 'improving his lot'? Perhaps repeatedly?"

Tallis sighed at Hawke's accusation and scratched her head, again looking sheepish. "I know it's not easy to understand. After what the Arishok did, I hardly blame you." She paused, choosing her next words deliberately. "But just tell me... can you honestly say there's nothing to improve, nothing to strive for?" Hawke opened her mouth to argue, but realized she was on Tallis' side. Was she not attempting to improve the lot of Kirkwall and all of the mages everywhere by doing exactly what Tallis was saying? "We believe in striving together. We may stumble, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Hawke pressed her lips together and grumbled out her next words. "I'm not arguing about this."

"It's who I am. I joined the Ben-Hassrath because I felt it meant something... Means something."

Hawke took in Tallis' tone and cocked her head. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

"It's been a long time since I even talked to anyone about it. I suppose it's not really prison cell conversation."

Hawke allowed her back to fall against the wall and sighed. "I suppose the good news is with all this extra time I can learn to knit." She started to pick at a crack in the bench she was sitting on.

"Could you make me a sweater?" Tallis asked with a smile.

"No," Hawke grumbled dismissively.

Tallis sighed in defeat and sat back on the ground. "The first order of business is getting out of here before His Grace decides we would taste good in the soup... or whatever he has planned. Any ideas?"

"Oh, I'm sure the others will be along any minute now," Hawke said, leaning her head back against the wall as well and closing her eyes. It was sloppy of the duke not to arrest Anders, Fenris and Varric. It had been evening before they had entered the puzzle room and the others would definitely know something must have gone wrong.

 

Hawke was startled awake not long after when Tallis' feet scraped the floor and she stood. "That's it. I'm officially tired of waiting to be rescued."

Hawke sat forward and watched her cross the cell and kneel before the gate. After a moment of fiddling, the gate clicked and rose from it's place. Hawke chuckled. "Why didn't you just do that before?"

"You said your friends were coming," Tallis said cheerfully as she shrugged.

Hawke pushed to her feet and followed Tallis from the cell. She seemed to know where she was going and who was Hawke to argue? After a few minutes of twisting labyrinths of dungeon, Hawke heard a voice so welcome that she darted from Tallis' side and raced around the corner. "Blast it! But we went left this time! We shouldn't have come full circle again!" Varric was in the middle of lamenting giving his ball of twine to Merrill when Hawke rounded the corner and bounded into Anders' arms. After the initial surprise, he sighed and hugged her close. "Thank the Maker! Are you all right, love?"

When Tallis approached, Varric said, "Let's get out of here."

Hawke cringed and looked to Tallis. "So back through the castle, then?"

"There's a better way than fighting through the Duke's entire army. I'll show you."

Varric paused before they set off and Fenris dropped a sack at their feet. "Here's your equipment, Hawke. Laying around in a locked chest." Then he tsked.

She noticed that they all had made it back into their armor and Anders was carrying her staff. She and Tallis went back into their cell to change quickly before she led them out. "We should head for the caves. That's the way out I'd planned to take us through originally. Unless you want to carve your way out through the duke's army."

"We'll see," Hawke shrugged, still uncertain how she was feeling about any of this.

"It's up to you which way you want to go, Hawke. I'll help you either way," Tallis said with a hint of remorse.

They ran into a few sets of guards in the dungeons, but nothing they couldn't handle. As they neared the exit to the caves, Varric wrinkled his nose at a set of three sculptures that looked strangely posed. "And this array of sculptures is known as 'Scurvy Bastards Reflecting on Modern Life.' After much reflection, they appear to have come to the conclusion, 'well,shit'."

Hawke chuckled, feeling a bit better now that they were on their way out of this mess. She also couldn't help but notice Tallis continuously glancing at her warily. At least she was aware that she had royally messed up. She led them to a crack in the wall of the dungeons and pointed. "See? Caves. Just like I said."

Hawke's brow rose. "How did you know about this?"

"I stole old plans, from the Fourth Blight. This was a Retreat, they called it. At any rate, there's an exit that leads out onto the mountainside. That's your way out." Hawke noted the use of the word 'your' as opposed to 'our'. As she approached the crack, Tallis continued. "Got everything from the chateau? The way those rocks look, I don't want to test this path more than once."

Hawke nodded and turned to the side, squeezing through the narrow passage. Anders squeezed in behind her and as they shimmied along, he chuckled softly. "Here I always figured you'd be the one coming to spring me from someone's dungeon. I had it all planned. I'd be in the Gallows, templars all around, holding the brand for the Rite of Tranquility. Then you'd burst in and break my chains. Then it would be all about the best way to show my gratitude."

Hawke snickered softly. "Did it have anything to do with finding another use for those chains?"

Fenris grumbled as bits of rock tumbled from the disturbed earth over them. "Get a room."

Then Tallis spoke up. "Not to come between you two or anything, but you didn't actually rescue us. I did."

Hawke giggled again and Anders shrugged. "It's the thought that counts."

They slithered through the narrow passage, dust and dirt crumbling from the walls onto their heads. When Hawke finally slipped out the other end, she crept forward to allow the others out. There was skittering up ahead and Hawke could hear the chortling giggles that she had recently come to associate with ghasts. "What was it you said about being thankful we weren't underground?" Hawke asked, tipping her head toward Tallis and pulling her staff into her hands to twirl it slowly. "Now we know where the ghasts came from."

All of her companions were cradling their weapons with caution as they picked their way through the narrow tunnels. At the first sighting of the gnarly little creatures, Tallis said, "We'll have to fight through them. At least they'll slow down the duke's men as well."

"Hello, bright side," Hawke mumbled as they fanned out to surround the group of ghasts.

They fought their way around a curving tunnel that led them to a gated entrance into what must have been the blight induced panic room Tallis had mentioned. Hawke heard running water and as they apporached the short bridge over the lake, she frowned. "There's a lake? In the middle of the mountain?"

"The retreat needed to house hundreds of people during the Blight, if not thousands. Can't do that without fresh water," Tallis explained.

"But it's a lake," Anders repeated, likely wondering as Hawke was, how they had managed to accomplish such a feat.

"Oh, that," Tallis shrugged. "I have no idea."

"So it's underground. They happen. Do only dwarves know these things?" Varric asked with his own dismissive shrug.

Hawke sighed and hustled them all forward. Getting out was more important than how they had gotten a lake into a mountain. Tallis moved up beside her and craned her head as they passed through another gate. "That's odd. I could swear there was..." Before she could finish, the gate slammed down behind her, cutting her off from Hawke and the others. Footsteps drew Hawke's attention behind her and she turned to see several mages, led by the duke's Chasind pet. "Trust me..." Tallis shouted over her shoulder as she darted further along the path.

Hawke gritted her teeth and called after the retreating rogue, "Tallis!"

Her heart began to race and she turned toward Cahir as he spoke. "The Circle are not the only ones who know how to break a mage. The duke is a fool... His enemies, a posturing, guileless lot. But you are worth testing. Prosper can fight his own battles. And I shall choose mine."

Hawke barely had a second to think 'Lucky me' before Fenris darted into the middle of the gathered mages and with a shout discharged his marks, stunning and overloading all of the mages in a small circumference around him, using the advantage to twirl in a tight circle, cutting them all down at once. Cahir ignored him, singling out Hawke. Before he made it to her, a dagger whistled through the air past his head and thunked into a wooden pillar behind him. He followed it's trajectory and sneered. Hawke finding herself doing the same. Up above them in a tiny hole, Tallis crouched with a grin. "Missed. That would have been a nice shot, too." She stood and hopped from her perch, rolling when she hit to ground to come up at Hawke's side. "You didn't think I was leaving, did you?"

Hawke shrugged guiltily before Cahir recovered and engaged them. He was relentless with his giant axe, swinging with fervor. What he didn't realize was that Hawke had personally fought off the Arishok single-handledly. He was not nearly as fast or as skilled as the massive Qunari leader. She and Tallis made short work of him as the others took care of what was left of the mages he had brought with him.

"Well, that was bracing," Tallis chuckled breathily as she wiped her daggers off and approached Hawke.

"I thought you'd left," Hawke responded, attempting to slow her racing heart.

"Nonsense. I found a way around. I said I'd get you out of here and I meant it," Tallis patted Hawke's bicep gently, her fingers lingering for a moment before she practically skipped toward the gate that had slammed closed. "Let's keep going. The exit can't be much further."

Tallis happened to be right. After they ran into another group of ghasts in their path, she paused and hummed. "And there's the way out." She turned a beautific smile on Hawke and continued. "See? I told you I had a plan. It was a good plan, the kind that had an escape and everything."

"Not a monster lair," Hawke appraised as she craned her neck to glance down the tunnel that Tallis had indicated. "That is a good sign."

"So you could go," Tallis offered in a bubbly tone, before rushing to continue. "There are, however... other options."

Hawke chuckled. "Coming on a bit strong, there, Tallis. We've only just met."

Tallis pouted with underlying smirk. "But we've been through so much together! Wyvern hunts, betrayals, daring escapes from prison..."

"You're right," Hawke sighed musingly. "I'm feeling so close to you right now."

Tallis chuckled and lifted her eyes, gazing at Hawke through her lashes. "So it's true what they say about you."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Anders interrupted with an annoyed grunt.

Tallis cleared her throat and continued. "You've been so reasonable since we were captured. I'm... hoping that hasn't changed." She paused and moved closer to Hawke, her expression pleading. "What Salit is going to do will harm so many innocents... my people as well as yours. It's my duty to stop him. Even so, I can't do it alone. Not anymore."

Hawke flicked her eyes back and forth between Tallis and the exit, needing more time and information before she could even think about deciding. She really wanted to help. "Explain what's so terrible about Salit's pan."

"I... can't. Not completely." She really was not helping her case. "And yes I know..." she paced away. "That's a hard sell." Glancing over her shoulder, she bit her lip and continued. "The information Salit plans to turn over to Orlais won't just hurt Qunari, however. It will harm anyone living in Qunari lands. Even those who fled the Qunari, of any race, will be condemned to persecution forever."

Hawke raised a brow. "It couldn't just be a way to convince me to help you again, I suppose?"

Tallis looked away, her head lowering. "If only it was..." She spun and continued. "I'm not here on some directive from the Qun, I came..." she sighed. "Salit was declared Tal-Vashoth, but they didn't deem intervention worthwhile. I... couldn't agree. I had to try."

Hawke's raised brows knitted together in a frown. "Doesn't that make you Tal-Vashoth as well?"

"No," Tallis said with a rebellious smirk. "The Ben-Hassrath didn't order me not to do this, but here I am anyway." She chuckled lightly. "I was trying to earn my way back into their good graces. This probably won't help."

"Why? What did you do?" Hawke asked curiously.

"It's not easy, being an elf in the Qun. You're not born to it like they are. I've struggled to find that peace, that certainty." Her hands wrung together in embarrassment. "I know it's there, I just... keep falling short." She looked back at Hawke expectantly. "What about you? Have you ever been part of something bigger than just yourself?"

Hawke tried to make light of the situation. She had been dragged through a lot in the last few years. A lot of it larger than she felt she should be a part of. "Big things have tried to eat me. Does that count?"

"The Qunari have a vision of what life should be like. Free from pain and fear and doubt. You see tyranny and I see caring, an interest in the welfare of all. Yes, it could be better. But so could human indifference and cruelty. Or do you disagree?" Tallis said passionately.

Hawke cringed. "No, you... have a point."

Tallis reached out and boldly grabbed Hawke's hand. "Then help me stop this before it goes too far."

Hawke gently pulled her hand free and crossed her arms. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"

"Well, we could go back, maybe have some tea with the duke. Get to know one another. Then, just as he starts to trust us, you slip a bag over his head and we drag him to Antiva!"

"No! Not Antiva! You fiend!" Hawke chuckled.

Tallis shrugged with a small smile. "Or we could find out when Salit is arriving, and stop him before it's too late."

Hawke sighed and asked the question hanging heavy over her head. "After everything you've already done, why would I help you again?"

She really wanted to like Tallis and to trust her. She was a good person beneath the loyalty to the Qun. What the elf did next made Hawke almost burst at the seams, holding in her laughter in what should have been a serious moment. "Because..." She reached up and pinched Hawke's nose briefly between the knuckles of her middle and pointer fingers and shrugged. "I've got your nose?"

"The Qun taught you that?" Hawke wondered, trying to hold herself together.

Tallis shook her head and her smirk returned. "If I were following the Qun, I would actually have your nose." When Hawke frowned, she sighed and continued. "I suppose that doesn't help... If I had my way, you would never have been this involved in the first place."

Finally Hawke sighed. "You know how to argue. But my options are...?"

"Follow or don't. It's pretty much that simple. I get the feeling you're... an exceptional person, Hawke. Here's your chance to prove it." Tallis tuned on her heel and moved to stand in the tunnel heading in the opposite direction of the one she had pointed Hawke down. Hawke glanced from Tallis to freedom and then to the others. Tallis had saved them countless times. Hawke was not the type to abandon someone. She sighed and her shoulders slumped as she pointed herself toward the spunky elf. "Thank you, Hawke. I... thank you." Tallis said softly as Hawke shooed her forward.

 

As they stepped out of the cave, Hawke realized that she had never been so glad to breathe fresh air since they had left the Deep Roads the last time. Orlesian dungeons were now on her top five list of places she never wanted to visit again. She barely had a chance to revel in her freedom before they were confronted by the man-child baron Arlange. He was likely a plant by the duke to stop them from escaping. He barely had a chance to call her a turnip before there was a dagger protruding from his eye socket. Apparenlty Tallis wouldn't let you live twice.

With that nuisance handled, only the Tal-Vashoth remained. Hawke was more than glad to have the extra help as they followed the Qunari riddled path back toward the Chateau. Personally, she would rather be fighting demons.

Tallis broke off from them to infiltrate the meeting while Hawke and her friends sidled up boldly as a distraction. Hawke could hear the conversation as they approached. "Let's get this over with, Qunari, before your assassins find us. Already I regret agreeing to spare them." That was the duke.

An unfamiliar deep and throaty voice answered. "I have chosen my path. That choice should not..."

"Parshaara," the Duke interrupted. "I am here to facilitate your deal with the empress, nothing more." There was a pause where the sounds of weapons being drawn and rooted into the ground passed along the air. Footsteps and silence. Finally, the duke spoke again. "Well?"

Another Orlesian spoke. "Names, Your Grace. It's... a list of names."

Armored footsteps signaled the duke moving and he snatched something from someone before shouting. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You asked for a weapon. I am providing it," Salit said passively.

"We expected the formula for blackpowder! Dreadnought plans, a map of Qunandar, anything! This... this is useless!"

Hawke chose to interrupt the duke ranting and strolled into the massive open air balcony. "Your Grace!" someone pointed her and her party out.

"Champion. I should have known you would turn up." Without looking, he swung his arm back and deposited the scroll he had been brandishing into Tallis' waiting arms. She had procured an Orlesian helmet and that was apparently enough for her to blend in to the background of the affair. Hawke smirked at his mistake as Tallis sidestepped slowly away.

"I have an excellent sense of dramatic timing. And good hair," she joked as the duke sneered at her in all of his colorful glory.

"Joke while you can. You will not find it funny for long."

A scuffle behind him interrupted his threat as Tallis took out a few of his flunkies before dropping a flash bomb and using the distraction to skillfully make her way up to a ledge over everyone's heads. "Tallis," the Qunari growled.

"I said I would stop you, Salit," she said sadly from her perch.

"And I said I would slay you if you tried," Salit returned.

The duke pulled a strange looking weapon from his person and it unfolded, clicking into shape much like Bianca did, although to Hawke, it looked more like a slingshot than a crossbow. Before she could speculate, he aimed it at Salit and shouted. "If anyone is to do any slaying, it will be me!" When he pulled the trigger on the weapon, a small pouch rocketed from the chamber and slammed into Salit's shoulder. The Qunari stumbled back, a glowing green goop spreading across his chest. He looked down at himself and rubbed at the substance as Hawke heard a rumbling sound coming from the inner edge of the balcony. Her eyes were drawn upwards to where the duke's pet Wyvern let out a deafening roar and bounded down from the top of the tower and landed in the circle of onlookers. He homed in on the goop and his teeth chomped around the Qunari, picking him up and chomping him in half with a sickening crunch before tossing him aside. "Kill them all." the duke roared and chaos erupted amongst the gathered soldiers.

Anders called out as he began to cast. "Focus fire on the duke! And for the Maker's sake, don't get hit by the Wyvern!"

Hawke and her companions scattered, trying to divide Leopold's attention so no one would get hit by the venom which was slowly beginning to spread across the ground, eating up a lot of room for dodging and footwork. The duke had a big mouth, taunting her from all over the balcony, making himself an easy to track target. Hawke was convinced that her prank in the kitchens with the Wyvern's dinner was the only reason they were still alive. He seemed sluggish and out of sorts. Prosper used his slingshot to launch several grenades around the balcony and then hopped onto the wyvern's back so it could carry him out of danger before he detonated the bombs. Hawke scrambled out of the way, putting herself uncomfortably close to the edge of the balcony. Below was nothing but plummeting mountainside. Hawke glanced around, looking for a safe route through the sizzling venom all over the ground when she was forced to catch her balance as one of the duke's projectiles exploded against her chest. "Hawke!" Tallis shouted in fear as Hawke looked down and realized she had been hit by the green goop. She looked up at the duke, perched on Leopold's back and they exchanged a glare. She readied her magic, a fiery glyph on the ground around her and challenged him as panicked shouts rang out around the balcony. The wyvern charged for her and she slipped lightning into her staff and crouched low just as he pounced. She unleashed both the magic in the glyph and the lightning in her staff into his belly as he over shot her. The fire roared up around her and the explosion rocked her. She dropped to her knees from her crouch so she didn't follow the wyvern over the cliff as if he seemingly in slow motion flew over her, caught fire and lurched over the edge.

His body rolled and her ears heard him plummet, but when she spun to look over, the duke had somehow managed to grab hold of the ledge, one handed. She glared down at him and he sneered right back. "Keep away from me! The empress will hear of this! Orlais will burn Kirkwall to the ground! All of you will die screaming, I swear it!"

Hawke snorted and crossed her arms as they others slowly made their way to her, the battle over. "I would have tried begging for mercy, but that's just me."

"You... filthy... whore!" the duke shouted as Hawke began to turn away.

"Thank you for the lovely party. I'll treasure the belt," she called over her shoulder. A terrified scream told her that the duke lost his hold on the ledge and she smiled. After what he had done, let him rot.

"And that's why you don't waste your last minute monologuing," Varric said with a chuckle.

"Looks like the duke... has fallen from grace," Hawke smirked as she approached Tallis who was crouched over Salit's corpse.

"Ataash varin kata," Tallis whispered. She stood and turned toward Hawke. "If the duke only knew what he nearly had in his grasp." She managed to look sheepish. "Thank you. There's no way I could have done this without your help."

"What is the scroll?" Hawke wondered.

Tallis took it from where she had secured it in her belt and held it up. "This is a list of agents throughout Thedas. Qunari like myself. Many of them have children, family, friends. They're people you wouldn't suspect. Some have even left the Qun behind. But if this list fell into human hands, they and everyone they know..."

"Would be killed," Hawke finished in realization.

"The Ariqun believes they knew the risks, but what about the innocents? I... I couldn't let this happen."

Hawke grinned and wiped the remnants of the dukes goop from her and said, "That's what you do for a friend."

Tallis smiled brightly and glanced toward Anders. "I can honestly say I'm a little jealous of you right now."

"Jealousy never hurt anyone. Much," he said, crossing his arms, but smiling softly.

Tallis sighed wistfully as her eyes rolled over Hawke's entire person. Then she shook herself and reached into another pouch on her belt. She pulled out a massive ruby ringed with an ornate golden setting as big as Hawke's face. "Oh, before I forget." She tossed it to Hawke. "That was going to be the Heart of the Many. You'd find a jewel, while I'd go off and find Salit... and be back before anyone was the wiser." She shrugged. "I suppose nothing ever goes like we plan, does it? Take care of yourself, Hawke. Maybe we'll meet again sometime."

After Tallis strolled off, Varric sighed. "I can't believe we fought the biggest damned wyvern ever born because Hummingbird took you nose."

Hawke shrugged and grinned, pocketing the ruby and beginning to gingerly pick her way from the balcony. "I needed it back. Plus, we got a shiny jewel."

Anders followed her, but not closely. "I hate to say this, love, but you smell like the ass end of a wyvern."

"I really hope I don't have to burn these clothes," Hawke sighed, brushing more of the substance from her chestplate.

"Next stop, the hottest hot spring we can find and the strongest soap Orlais has to offer," Varric said with a chuckle.

 


	21. The Other Shoe Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more tension between the Mages and Templars, Anders' reason for distracting the Grand Cleric is revealed and chaos erupts in Kirkwall.

When Hawke returned to Kirkwall, her correspondence table was blessedly clear. She sighed in relief and made her way upstairs and collapsed onto the bed, her arms sprawled out across the sheets. She closed her eyes and pretended not to hear when Anders followed her into the room and the door clicked closed behind him. She pressed her lips together, trying to hide the smirk as he moved toward the bed and then dropped himself over her, rocking the bed and putting their faces barely an inch apart. She opened her eyes and set her bright blue eyes on his honey ones and smiled sweetly. He was grinning down at her. "Someone needs to school you on the proper definition of the word vacation," he teased. She stretched her arms up over her head and arched her back, 'accidentally' brushing her knee along his crotch.

She let out a low humming chuckle. "I do seem to have returned wound more tightly than when I left. Are you planning on schooling me, professor?"

"I could, but I would much rather just..." he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her neck. "Help you relax."

"That _does_ sound like a much better use of my time," she agreed as his hand slipped up under her tunic.

They went to bed that night, Hawke draped around Anders, her arm over his chest and her hand clutched in his as he held it over his heart. The quiet reprieve was short lived as the city began to realize that the Champion had returned. She barely had time to unwind before she received a request on her desk.

_Champion Hawke,_

_It took great courage the other day for you to speak openly against our Knight-Commander. You have my support in any actions you take. I hope I have yours as well, for there is a situation in the Circle I was hoping you could assist me with. Please meet me at the Gallows. Meredith has confined my mages to their cells and forbade me from traveling further than the courtyard. I appreciate your service and discretion._

_Sincerely,_

_First Enchanter Orsino_

Hawke dressed in her armor and gathered her people to see what sort of appeasement she needed to participate in to keep the two most powerful people in the city from ripping each other apart. Orsino was agitated when Hawke found him in his office, directly across from Meredith's. Luckily she didn't seem to be around.

"Thank you for coming, Champion," he said without even a hint of a smile. He moved into a formal stance that she responded to by settling into her hips, her arms crossed. "Few will associate with me now that I am the focus of Meredith's ire." Hawke nodded and glanced around his office, recognizing some of his tomes and other books as he spoke, her attention still on him, even as she feigned aloofness. "Which leaves me in a difficult position. She is not entirely wrong."

Hawke's attention suddenly snapped back to Orsino, her eyes narrowing and her back straightening. "Inform the criers!" Anders snarked. "A miracle has occurred."

Orsino sighed. "I know some of my people are using dangerous means to oppose her, but I cannot seek the templars' aid without making every mage a target." Hawke did not in any way envy Orsino's position.

"What are they doing?" she asked.

He turned to her from the short pace across his desk and said softly. "All I know is that numerous mages have left the Circle at night, sometimes for days at a time." Hawke's eyes widened. How in the void were they getting away with things like that without being missed? "I'd rather not follow our Knight-Commander by leaping to the worst possible conclusions, but the idea of blood magic has crossed my mind."

Hawke nodded in agreement. "She does like to add one and one and get eleven, doesn't she?"

Orsino snorted softly. "Sometimes a hundred and eleven. I've heard rumors, whispers, of a meeting tonight in Hightown. I would go myself, but should I leave the tower without permission, Meredith would call it proof of my involvement."

"So I shouldn't slit my wrists and dance naked under the moonlight just to fit in?" Hawke said with a grin.

"I would pay to see that," Anders interrupted, making her smirk even wider.

Orsino shook his head. "Just learn the nature of this meeting. You needn't interrupt unless you find proof of something sinister. I pray not, or Meredith will have what she needs to justify the Rite of Annulment." He hung his head in what translated to sadness and shame, anger and frustration all rolled up into one expression.

Hawke nodded and agreed to meander around Hightown that night to see exactly what was going on.

 

The meeting turned out to be exceedingly simple to stumble upon. Hawke wondered how exactly they had been getting away with this nonsense if they were just having meetings right out in the open air outside the DeLauncet mansion. She had been so convinced that she wouldn't find them there that she had walked right into the courtyard and been spotted. "Someone's coming! The Champion!" One of the mages called out as she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

Even more shocking was that the person to speak next was a templar. "We know you're spying for Orsino!"

"Run!" Another of the mages said, drawing his staff as the templar drew his blade. "We'll handle this!"

The first speaker and a few others bolted from the courtyard as the remaining men engaged Hawke and her friends. Fighting both templars and mages that were working together was an interesting experience. The sheer scent of Lyrium was almost as strong as she remembered it being when she was wrapped in Fenris' arms. That alone was distracting. Then she found herself dodging and deflecting swords and shields imbued with templar abilities made specifically to shut her down as she fought to keep her barrier and her footwork going against the mages who were attempting to both dispel and sap her mana for themselves. When the last mage fell, she inhaled an exhausted breath and Anders said, "We should search them, see if there's any further evidence of their plans."

It was a good idea that led them to a note that pointed them to the docks. As they made their way through the city's streets, Varric chuckled. "Another secret society meeting in a warehouse. Do you think the owners charge them rent?"

When they reached the place, it was completely unobtrusive. On first glance, it was simply another warehouse stacked full of crates. When Hawke pushed open the inner door, she took note of several mages and templars scattered around and a familiar face smack dab in the middle and looking slightly undecided. He was speaking with the man who had fled the courtyard. "I told you she was hunting us!" the mage shouted as Hawke loudly tromped down the wooden stairs to meet them face to face.

Keran spun, his unforgettable blue eyes widening in horror. "No... Not her. I can't do this." With those words, he ducked out of the ring of mages and templars preparing to fight. Hawke sighed and drew her own staff, readying herself for battle. Another grueling fight later, Keran sheepishly returned from his hiding spot. "I told them not to do it, I swear! If I knew you were the one they were talking about, I'd have warned you." He shook his head. "I don't hold with kidnapping. Not after what I went through."

"Didn't I save your life?" Hawke grunted, crossing her arms angrily. She needed answers and he was the only one left.

"You did. Believe me. I still dream about those blood mages. I don't know where I'd be without you. I'd never have let them kidnap anyone I knew was one of yours." His eyes were wild.

"I don't like where this is heading," Hawke said with a sigh. She hadn't been back from Orlais long enough to know which of her friends was missing, and her heart started to race.

"They said someone was spying, we needed leverage, someone they cared about. As a hostage," he admitted, wringing his hands. We just got word they pulled it off, right before you came here."

Hawke squared her shoulders and pulled her mask down over her swirling emotions. "Your friends were way off the mark if they thought that would make me cave."

His eyes bugged even further. "Th... They should have just talked to you. I know you're a reasonable person. You have to see how dangerous Meredith is." It was as if he were trying to convince her. "Thrask says Meredith will cause open war with the mages if she stays in charge. We have to take her down."

"Is Thrask the one running this conspiracy?" Hawke wondered with a frown. He didn't seem the type.

"He's the one who brought us together," Keran admitted. Hawke was willing to assume that even if Thrask had started this, he was likely no longer in control of the situation. "For six years he's been working... one mage, one templar at a time. Teaching us we don't have to hate each other. He showed us Meredith isn't the only way."

Hawke sighed, her frustration mounting. "I'm not your enemy in this. I think Meredith is a dangerous zealot..."

"Then talk to Thrask," Keran said quickly. "He would welcome your aid. Our main base is on the Wounded Coast... an old ruin. They should all be there. Your friend too. I promise you, Meredith is the only one we're trying to harm. I... I'll go back to Macha's. Please don't tell Meredith about me. It would kill Macha if I got in trouble." With one final tip of his head, he left.

"Well, I know they didn't take you three... that leaves far too many others," Hawke growled through gritted teeth. "Let's find the ruin before they decide to repay us for their dead friends."

 

It took them until dawn to find the camp and Hawke was unsurprised to find it guarded by several shades and a couple of walking corpses. Apparently these mages had decided that blood magic was the key to overthrowing Meredith. Once they had cleared the path, another familiar face appeared, his eyes ringed with dark circles and his expression grim. His deep tone bounced around in Hawke's exhausted head and she grimaced. "Well, here you are. You've been sticking your nose in every problem in Kirkwall since you stumbled off the boat." 

Hawke crossed her arms. "You were the upstanding citizen begging coins to get your next flask of Lyrium."

Samson scoffed. "It's been a long time since anyone could get under my skin with that. I know what I am." He shrugged. "So it shouldn't surprise you to see me here, right? One more blockhead move that's gonna keep me in the gutter. I just wanted to see Meredith out on her ass like she did to me."

Hawke chuckled. "Meredith does seem to have a serious case of the crazies, yes."

Samson tapped his nose with a finger. "But is she wrong? I'd hoped with Meredith gone I could take up the shield again. But maybe she was right... give them a hint of freedom..." he held his arms out to encompass the corpses all around them. "mages go bad."

Hawke shook her head. "Your friends are right. Without Meredith, Kirkwall can be at peace again."

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mages and templars working together... I must be dreaming."

"It is never that simple," Fenris rebuked.

"I'd cheer to see her shipped to Val Royeaux," Samson said, interrupting the brewing argument. "but I don't have the stomach to turn against all that's right and natural to do it."He left them, pointing down the road behind him to indicate they were on the right path before leaving to head back toward the city.

Hawke followed the path down to a camp that was situated in a hollowed out clearing that looked as if it used to be a tower of some sort. Crumbled stones and the sandy ground all swirled together to make for a very tan backdrop to their meeting. Hawke's heart immediately began to thump harder as she took note of Isabela crumpled in a heap near a campfire in the middle of the base and surrounded by Thrask and his minions. She had always liked Thrask, and she wondered what had driven him to such insanity as she calmly approached, her uncaring mask pulled tightly over her features. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you wouldn't have come here," Thrask said with a heavy sigh as he noticed her approach. As he met her halfway between her and Isabela, he was flanked by two more faces that Hawke recognized. The Starkhaven mages, Grace and Alain. "Though I can't understand why you side with Meredith, now. You showed me we can stand up to her. When I realized you had risked your life, lying to protect those mages... Please, Champion. I have nothing but respect for you. It's Meredith we must see gone."

Hawke held up her hands in placation, allowing her eyes to flick once again toward Isabela, praying to see the rise and fall of her breathing before she said slowly, "Your cause is just, but I take issue with your methods."

Thrask sighed, relief washing over his face. "I should have known you recognize the threat Meredith poses. I am sorry for any distress we caused you or your friends." He glanced at the others and said softly. "Let the hostage go."

"No!" Grace growled angrily. "The girl dies. Then the Champion."

Hawke balked, her eyes bugging quickly before she pulled herself back under control and Thrash scolded Grace. "Stand down, Grace!" He stepped between her and Isabela.

"Grace? We saved you. What are you doing?" Anders pleaded in as much shock as Hawke was feeling.

Thrask swiped his hand downwards in an authoritative gesture. "We will not kill an innocent to achieve our ends. It gains us nothing to become Meredith."

"Meredith!" Grace scoffed in anger. "What do I care for Meredith?" Then she turned a devious scowl on Hawke and smirked. "I'm here for the Champion."

Hawke sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. "I've been wondering when you'd come back to bite me in the ass."

"Decimus was right. There is no way for a mage to live by the Chantry's laws." She pointed at Hawke and spat. "You killed the best man I ever met, but I learned all he had to teach." Then she spun and glared at the dark skinned young man, who until then had been inching away from her and cowering. "Alain! Kill the hostage."

His mouth opened and closed and he managed to sputter in a soft voice. "I...I dont know, Grace..."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Try to do a blood mage a favor..."

"This isn't right, Grace," Alain said, straightening, Hawke's words and aloof attitude seemingly giving him courage. "The Champion tried to help us."

Grace was so quick that Hawke swore she heard the backhanded slap to Alain's face before she saw it. The sound cracked and echoed around them as Grace sneered. "Don't defy me boy! Without me, you'd be nothing!" Alain fell to his knees, clutching his face with both hands. "If you're too squeamish, I'll do it myself."

Hawke twitched forward as Grace began to move toward Isabela, but Thrask was in a better position to block her path. "No! No one has to die here!"

Grace paused and laughed maniacally, the air surrounding her beginning to glow a gentle red as Hawke felt the tug on the veil and the subsequent spiderweb feeling of blood magic. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong!"

"Restrain yourself!" Thrask shouted, his eyes bugging. He had yet to draw his weapon, but neither Hawke or Fenris were as trusting.

Grace took her staff and jammed the butt end through her own gut, mana swirling around her and the blood splashing from the wound joining it as her skin stitched itself back together. Hawke's bicep scar throbbed as the magic called to the rune, and she grimaced, shaking it off to call her own mana. "Forget the hostage!" Grace yelled as she picked up Thrask with a spirit arm and threw him bodily across the ruin. He landed in a twisted heap, the crack of his neck audible even at that distance. "Kill the Champion!"

These were the people that she had been fighting with Anders to protect, and here they were, following Grace's idiotic schemes. Hawke cried out in anger as she jammed her staff into the ground and unleashed a firestorm on Grace, pelting her incessantly with fireballs the size of her head. Grace shrieked, her blood magic working past her own ability in an attempt to hold against the onslaught. When Hawle was through, and the cobwebs began to ebb, she noted that her companions had made short work of any others who had taken Grace's side.

Alain cowered near Grace's charred corpse, glancing up at Hawke in terror. "I knew she was still alive, but I didn't know Thrask was working with her." He hung his head. "When I saw her today, it brought everything back, everything I saw Decimus do... I... I'm sorry." He glanced over at Isabela and got to his feet, moving to her side. "Grace used blood magic to hold her." He knelt on one knee and pulled a small knife from his belt. "That's the only way I can bring her out."

He cut open his palm and a light trickle of blood dripped from the wound. A brief wave of nausea passed over Hawke as he weaved his spell and suddenly, Isabela jerked awake and scrambled to her feet, glancing around. She spoke groggily. "Where are we? I was sure I was going to end up in the hold of a slaver's ship."

Fenris moved cautiously toward her and stood stoically in case she had any lingering dizziness as Hawke smirked and crossed her arms, teasing gently. "I thought you were better than this! A couple of lousy templars and you're down?"

Isabela scoffed. "Ach. They took me by surprise. Thanks for the save, poppet. If you're ever in this spot, I'll do the same for you."

Before Hawke could retort, Samson's voice entered the clearing. "They're meeting in here, Ser Cullen... Oh!" he paused and looked around at the slew of dead bodies and the few that remained standing that looked ready to keel over from fear. "I guess you didn't get on so well with these mages as you thought."

"Champion!" Cullen said in only mild shock, her title rolling formally off his tongue. "Samson never said you were involved in this." His eyes narrowed and he directed a suspicious glare toward her. "I trust you were here to stop these traitors, not join them?"

"That Champion's a fine lady, ser," Alain said, stepping up to her defense. "She wanted to solve this peacefully."

Cullen grunted in frustration. "Put the mage to questioning," he waved his hand toward Alain dismissively.

As one of the helmed templars at his heel moved to hustle Alain away, Hawke reciprocated his defense of her. "The boy stood up to his elders when they would have killed an innocent hostage."

Cullen snorted in disbelief. "You mean he was one of them, save for a convenient last minute change of heart." Then he sighed at Hawke's frown. "I'll encourage Meredith to take it easy on him."

"Thank you, Champion," Alain said softly, his head hanging low as he was led off.

Cullen glanced around at the rest of the remaining conspirators. "Everyone else here is under arrest. Take them to the Gallows." Then he returned his gaze to Hawke and his expression softened. "Is there any recommendation you would have me bring to Meredith, Champion?"

Hawke glanced at Samson and nodded. "She should consider reinstating Samson. When it came down to it, he showed where his heart is."

Cullen looked surprised as he glanced at Samson, whose mouth hung open in shock. "True," Cullen agreed. "Samson, you have done us a great service. Do you wish to take up the shield once more?"

"M...more than anything, Knight-Captain, ser," Samson stuttered, his eyes glistening.

Cullen nodded. "Then I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, ser!" he said excitedly and then turned to Hawke and dipped his head. "Thank you."

Once everyone had cleared out, Hawke realized she needed to report back to Orsino. It was a long trek back to the city and then the ride on the ferry to the Gallows nearly rocked her to sleep. She yawned as she crossed the courtyard in the mid morning sun. Once inside the Gallows, she headed straight for Orsino's office and without knocking stepped in and bluntly gave her report. "Your mage-templar group was conspiring to overthrow Meredith."

He closed the book he had been skimming and reshelved it with a sigh. "I have a sudden deep regret I interfered..." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "You know, I was half convinced Meredith had engineered the whole thing, to trick me into incriminating myself."

"Thrask admitted to leading the group," Hawke said with a shrug, stifling another yawn.

"Perhaps I've exaggerated the depths of her madness," Orsino shrugged moving toward a teapot on a small table on the opposite side of his desk and raising a brow to offer her a cup. "But if she's not there yet, she will be soon."

"Oh, she's there," Anders corrected reassuringly as Hawke shook her head to decline to steaming tea.

"The only question is, once it's clear she cannot lead, will there be anyone left to oppose her?" Orsino sighed again pouring his own small mug and drinking it without cream or sugar. Using the tip of his finger, he slid a small pouch across his desk. "Please accept this as my thanks. It will be of more value to you right now than my friendship."

Hawke accepted the trinket with a nod and dismissed herself, ready for a warm bath and a very long nap.

 

Hawke got her nap, but it was shorter than she would have liked. She and Anders were awoken by a soft yet insistent knocking on the bedroom door. "The whole city had better be on fire," Hawke grumbled as she dragged herself out of bed and slipped into her robe to see what the fuss was about.

The flush on Orana's cheeks calmed Hawke's irritation as the woman handed her a note sealed by the First Enchanter. "Th...the messenger said it was urgent mistress."

Hawke patted Orana's shoulder and smiled before opening the brief note.

_Champion,_

_You have proven yourself a friend to Kirkwall's mages, and it seems I must call upon you once again. Meredith has gone too far, and I will not let her madness remain unchecked. I ask that you come to the Gallows at once. Perhaps together we can stop this before there is bloodshed._

_First Enchanter Orsino_

"Son of a bitch," Hawke cursed, crumbling the parchment in her fist and igniting it. "I've half a mind to go down there and drag them both off by the ears."

Anders sat up, the sheets pooling in his lap as he raised a brow at her outburst as she began to gather her armor to get dressed. "Everything all right, love?"

"Oh the usual. Meredith and Orsino circling each other again..." Hawke dropped her arms and sighed, fidgeting with the tunic in her hands. "I can't help but feel like this is coming to a head. There is only so much everyone can do to keep the peace."

Anders pulled the sheets away and began to dress as well. "I'm coming with you."

Hawke pressed her lips together. "You and everyone else." She called out to Orana and sent her to fetch the others. "I want all hands on deck for this. I have a bad feeling."

 

No more than a half an hour later, she was hopping off the ferry into the Gallows courtyard with a small army. As soon as she passed into the tranquil market, there was a suspicious lack of templars at hand. A nervous looking mage scurried from the front gates and breathlessly said. "Champion! Thank the Maker you've come!"

"What's happened?" she asked, the bad feeling in her gut wrapping up into a tight ball of worry.

"First Enchanter Orsino got into a terrible argument with the Knight-Commander. He stormed off to bring the matter before the grand cleric, but the Knight-Commander gave chase. I fear there will be blood!" the mage reported.

Hawke sighed in frustration. She must have just missed them in the crossing. "Wonderful..." she spun and her entourage followed her back to the ferry.

They made it up from the docks and into the middle of the Lowtown market before they heard raised voices. Hawke rounded the corner and found Meredith and Orsino paused at the bottom of the steps up to Hightown. "I _will_ have the tower searched. Top to bottom!" Meredith shouted, her fists balled before her as she raged at Orsino.

"You cannot do that!" Orsino spat back in his usual calm but curt tone. "You have no right!"

"I have every right!" Meredith sneered. "You are harboring blood mages, and I intend to root them out before they infect this city."

"Blood magic!" Orsino threw his hands in the air with a scowl. "Where do you not see blood magic? My people cannot sneeze without you accusing them of corruption!"

"Do not trifle with me, mage... My patience is at an end!" Meredith growled.

"A wonder that I never saw it begin..." Orsino grumbled stoically.

Hawke had seen enough. She pushed her way through the gathering crowd and said loudly, "The way you two carry on, people will talk..."

"This does not involve you, Champion!" Meredith turned her ire on Hawke and it was palpable. Hawke felt Anders tense at her side and she calmly reached over and took his wrist to keep him from doing anything that would set the already frayed nerves in the square on edge.

"I called her here," Orsino said triumphantly. "I think the people deserve to know just what you've done."

Meredith spun on Orsino again. "What I have done is protect the people of this city, time and again. What I have done is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity." Then she glared at Hawke, almost in challenge. "And I will not stop doing it. I will not lower our guard, I dare not!"

"Is there any truth to what she's saying?" Hawke asked calmly of Orsino, attempting to ingore Meredith's eyes burning with anger.

"These are only her latest accusations, nothing more!" Orsino insisted. "And what if she does not find what she's looking for? How much further will she go to root out something that isn't there?"

"The Champion knows better than anyone how deep the Circle's corruption goes. I must find the source!" Meredith insisted.

"There must be some way we can work this out," Hawke almost pleaded as Anders grunted in frustration. She was beginning to feel heat coming off the man in waves.

"What other option do we have?" Meredith whimpered. "Shall we look the other way? Tell the poor victims of a possessed mage that we meant no harm? Tell me, Champion, that you have not seen with your own eyes what they can do, heard the lies of mages that seek power."

"Some of us want exactly what you want, Meredith. We're not the enemy," Hawke sighed, feeling more and more by the minute that this particular bomb would not be defused any longer.

"You would cast us all as villains, but it is not so," Orsino agreed softly.

The Knight-Commander's face fell, her anger dissipating into fear and regret for a brief moment. "I know, and it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!"

"This is getting us nowhere," Orsino growled. "Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this." He spun and started for the steps up to Hightown.

Meredith was on him in an instant, grabbing hold of his arm and stopping him before he even hit the bottom step. "You will not bring Her Grace into this!"

Before Hawke could react, Anders was past her, his staff in his hand and the magic rolling off him like a suffocating undertow, dragging her under with him. "The Grand Cleric cannot help you!"

Meredith pounced, abandoning her hold on Orsino to snarl at Anders instead. "Explain yourself, mage."

Anders met her pace for pace until they were nearly nose to nose. "I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals..." he pounded the butt of his staff on the ground and Hawke felt a drag of magic as he continued, looking around Meredith to Orsino. "While those who would lead us bow to their templar jailers!"

"How dare you speak to..." Orsino began, but Anders cut him off with another jab of his staff onto the ground.

Hawke swallowed, recognizing as Justice fought to take control. "The Circle has failed us, Orsino! Even _you should be able to see that!_ " As Anders pointed an accusing finger at Orsino, his skin cracked and a light hum of blue lit the surrounding area. Hawke cringed. He reigned in the spirit and turned away, his voice taking on an eerie calm. "The time has come to act. There can be no half measures..."

"Anders," Hawke heard the frightened waver in her own voice. "What have you done?"

"There can be no turning back," he finished, barely above a whisper as he seemed to deflate, his back to her.

The ground began to rumble beneath her feet, and Hawke felt nauseous, knowing that whatever she had helped him plant in the Chantry was about to erupt. She couldn't help craning her head toward Hightown as the rumbling got louder and the entire city seemed to shake. From their vantage point, she could just barely make out the roof of the Chantry as several ugly beams of red magic shot up from beneath. The light spread, turning the sky brown and then white as the magic disintegrated the building in a blinding swirl of magic and stone that folded in on itself in a tight cloud above the city and then exploded outward. Hawke found herself swallowing a choke as debris spread across the city and ash rained down on them. Then she closed her gaping mouth, turning shimmering eyes on Anders as he watched the explosion with a mixture of elation and regret swirling across his expression.

"Maker have mercy!" Meredith gasped softly.

"There can be no peace," Anders whispered, closing his eyes and hanging his head, not even looking at Hawke.

Hawke was dragged from her shock as Sebastian cried out in horror, dropping to his knees. "Elthina! No! Maker, no! She was Your most faithful, Your most beloved..." He hung his head as well, sobbing out his next words. "Why didn't she listen to me?" Hawke's heart clenched, watching her friend grieving so openly until he gathered himself like the prince he was and stood, lifting his arm to send the dead to the Maker. "Blessed be the souls of the faithful that they ascend to Your right hand..."

"Why?" Orsino managed to gasp, turning to face Anders as Hawke stepped subconsciously to the side to gather her own thoughts. "Why would you do such a thing?"

His voice made her shudder. "I removed the chance of compromise, because there is no compromise."

Meredith had apparently gathered her own wits. "The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry destroyed." She spun to look upon everyone assembled. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed... immediately."

"The Circle didn't even do this!" Orsino choked and then turned to Hawke as Anders swallowed and his jaw dropped. Hawke could not take her eyes from the man she had come to see as her other half. "Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness!"

"And I demand you stand with us! Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!" Meredith growled, pulling Hawke in another direction. She felt her gut twist. She could not let Meredith annul the Circle. Orsino was right. Those mages were innocent.

"This... is chaos! We must help the Knight-Commander!" Aveline cried, her green eyes bugging from beneath her headband.

"No! This wasn't their fault!" Merrill squeaked. "You can't possibly want to slaughter innocent people, can you?"

"Why are we debating the Rite of Annument when the monster who did this is right here?" Sebastian interrupted pointing at Anders. Hawke cringed again. With everyone's opinions bouncing around the square, she had barely had time to breathe, much less calm her thoughts to form her own opinion. She had been on Anders' side for years now. They had been partners, quite literally, in crime. Her emotions were currently balled up in a massive jumbled knot that was resting in the middle of her chest, shutting off her airways. "I swear to you, I will kill him!"

Hawke felt herself whimper, but she quickly stifled it. If it came down to it, she honestly didn't know how to handle the situation, but even thinking of Anders losing his life clenched the fist around her lungs even tighter. She had been staring at the ground and she jerked her head up as Anders added his voice to the equation. "It can't be stopped now. You have to choose."

She looked up, tears threatening to break through her mask. "Was... that why you needed me to distract the Grand Cleric?"

"You..." Sebastian set an angry sneer on Hawke. "Were part of this?!"

"If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance," Anders answered coldly. "The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see."

"Elthina is _not_ the Circle." Sebastian growled. She was a good woman and _you_ murdered her."

"You fool! You've doomed us all!" Orsino accused, drawing Anders' pleading gaze from Hawke only momentarily.

"We were already doomed. A quick death now, or a slow one later... I'd rather die fighting." Anders spoke passionately and it was difficult not to see the mildly rebellious Warden that she had fallen in love with.

"The Circle does more harm than good," Hawke said softly, her own voice unstable and her eyes on the ground again.

"It doesn't matter!" Meredith shouted. "Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand, the people will demand blood."

Hawke sucked in a breath and came to her own decision. "This won't be easy," she said, lifting her eyes to Orsino and nodding, "But I'll defend you."

"But what of Anders?" Sebastian insisted, like a shark circling blood.

"Hawke, if you do this..." Aveline began, sighing. "I don't know if I can follow."

"And so you would defend these mages?" Fenris asked, drawing her attention to him. He had been shockingly silent since this all started. "After all they have done? Throw yourself at a hopeless cause?"

"You sure about this?" Varric asked gently. "Even you might not win this fight."

"I know we can do this!" Merrill added. "I believe in you, Hawke." At least someone did. She wasn't certain she even believed in herself quite yet. Her hands were shaking and her insides felt like jelly.

"Shit, what have you gotten yourself into this time, Isabela," the pirate sighed quietly, crossing her arms lightly, but holding her body in a defensive stance.

"Think carefully, Champion. Stand with them and you share their fate," Meredith warned slowly, her eyes narrowing.

"I can live with that," Hawke said, assuring both herself and Meredith as she squared her shoulders.

"Thank the Maker," Orsino sighed in relief.

"No!" Fenris shook his head vigorously. "I won't fight to save these mages... not for you. Not for anyone."

His denial hit her like a slap to the face as Aveline spoke as well. "I see what you're trying to do, and my place... is with you."

"You are a fool, Champion," Meredith pointed out. Hawke was fairly certain she already had gotten that particular message, so she ignored it as Meredith began to shout orders. "Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the order!"

"Go!" Orsino shouted to the rest of the mages standing with him. "Get to the Gallows before it's too late!"

Hawke was barely able to concentrate as chaos broke out around her. Fenris had left with Meredith and Anders shuffled like the undead toward a short crate and dropped down to sit on it, his head in his hands. Her heart broke for him. She remembered back to the day when she had almost been able to talk him out of this, until Justice had taken over and threatened her. As the battle raged around her, she continued to spare glances at him, trying in vein to decide what to do. Sebastian was calling for his head. She didn't think she could give him that. She had been through far too much and shared even more with Anders. She was not whole without him.

When the fight was over, and there was a lull in the action, Orsino sighed, looking around at several dead templars. "So it's come to this..." He sighed. "I don't know if we can win this war Champion, but... thank you." He glanced over at Anders who was now sitting up, stiff as a board and staring off into the void. "I will leave your... friend for you to deal with. I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

Hawke nodded solemnly and Orsino gathered what was left of the mages with him and hurried back toward the ferry. She moved to stand behind him, crossing her arms and waiting. She didn't have to wait long. "There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the Justice all mages have awaited."

Hawke frowned. "Did that spirit tell you to do this?"

"No," he said sharply. "When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could."

She felt her will slipping. "I might have understood, if you'd only told me."

Sebastian butted in, snapping Hawke's attention to him and bringing a frown to her brow. "You condone this? The brutal death of an innocent woman of faith? Someone you knew! Who trusted you!"

"I wanted to tell you," Anders said, ignoring Sebastian. "But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that." He kept his gaze firmly fixed ahead, not once glancing back at her. She didn't need him to look at her. She could see every emotion and expression cross his face as if he were facing her. That was how well she knew him. "The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution. And if I pay for that with my life... then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free."

"Opinions?" she choked, unable to make her own decision just yet and looking to her friends for guidance.

Sebastian was of course the first to speak up. "If I'd been in that Chantry today, would you be waffling? You know what must be done!"

"Bold plan... well, I thought so," Isabela said softly, her arms crossed again.

"Belief is no excuse... sincerity does not justify... this," Aveline gestured to the city that was burning in patches everywhere.

Merrill's head was shaking. "He should come with us. Do what he can to put things right."

"I think I'm sick of mages and templars," Varric grumbled, kicking a piece of debris from beside his foot.

Hawke heaved a ragged sigh. Merrill had the plan she liked the most. Atonement. It left her more time to make a final decision. "Whatever you do, just do it," Anders said with a cringe, his neck and shoulders tensing as if he expected a knife in his back.

"Help me defend the mages," she said.

"You mean..." he stood and spun, the surprise evident in his bulging eyes. "Stay with you? I didn't think you'd let me. But if you do... I'll fight the templars. Damned right I will!"

"No! You cannot let this abomination walk free. He dies, or I am returning to Starkhaven," Sebastian threatened, forcing Hawke to instinctively stand between him and Anders. "And I will bring such an army with me on my return that there'll be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule."

"Do not interfere, Sebastian," Hawke said through gritted teeth.

Sebastian's aqua eyes flowed up and down her and he sighed. "I will not fight you, Hawke. My death now would serve nothing. I will return to Starkhaven. But... I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is!"

When Sebastian walked away, Hawke turned back to Anders. "Thank you for my life. I'll try not to make such a mess of it this time." A small, embarrassed smirk played across his lips and Hawke fought to maintain the angry glare she had pasted on her face.

Isabela sighed. "How invigorating."

Varric grunted. "We'd all best get to the Gallows, and quick. It's going to be quite a show."

As the others all started off down the stairs back toward the docks, Anders moved to follow, but Hawke grabbed his arm. She felt the tears that she had been holding back escaping. She squeezed, hard, conveying her point. "Your life was _mine_ to take. Don't you dare make me regret this." Before he could answer, she dragged him into a hug, burying her face in the nape of his neck and inhaling the familiarity of years of love.

His arms slowly lifted and encircled her, his body seemingly folding around her. "Never," he whispered.

She slowly pulled away and angrily brushed the tears from her cheeks, gathering herself for the fight to come. It was sure to be the hardest of her life.

 

Small fires were burning throughout the city, even districts away from the eye of the storm in Hightown. Hawke's mind still warred with itself. What were they going to do after the current situation was handled? The city would need fixing, but there was also the matter of the Chantry coming down on them. The Divine would march her armies against Kirkwall and leave the city, her home, in a smoldering heap of rubble. All through Lowtown, there were templars and mages locked in pockets of battle. Magic seeped through the streets and Hawke could feel the sticky spiderweb feeling of blood magic as the desperate succumbed to demons to save themselves. Templars attacked them a few times, but mostly, she was fighting her own people. The people that she had wanted to save. Demons and abominations stalked the streets.

She prayed that the others were safe in Hightown. The people she had come to see as family. Bodhan and Sandal, Orana and Alfie. Her estate was so close to the blast. She put the fears from her mind and fought forward. Every mage she had to put down made her fight even harder, narrowing her determination to a single target. Meredith.

Near the docks, they were beginning to see thralls and Hawke realized that this was high level blood magic. So Orsino had been harboring necromancers and practiced blood mages. To be able to influence the mind of another... She cringed as her staff blade bit into the gut of a dockworker whose eyes burned with manufactured fury. She had no time to regret anything as a massive demon of pride stomped up from the ferry dock. The powerful mage who had summoned it fell as Aveline rammed her with her shield and Isabela skirted in to slit her throat. The demon let out a deep throaty cackle as electricity sparked between its palms. The air was suddenly sucked from Hawke's lungs and as she dropped to her knees, gasping, she noticed the ring of humming magic that was surrounding her, Merrill and Varric. She lifted her staff, silently drawing a glyph in her mind to dispel the explosive spell. She was not fast enough. The strength was fading from her limbs and she dropped her staff, her palms hitting the stone ground as she fought to remain conscious. Her vision darkened and just as she thought she was going to pass out, the spell was gone. She sucked in a massive lungful of air and dropped to her side, choking. Varric and Merril both reacted similarly. Isabela rushed to Merrill, as Aveline picked Varric up and Anders' strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She instinctively pulled away, sitting up and trying to catch her breath. Anders' expression was hurt, but she ignored it. "We need to get to the Gallows. Come on." She picked up her staff from the ground where it lay and used it to stand. The others were recovering and she pushed forward.

The ferry was abandoned, but Isabela hopped on and took over steering. The ride across was silent, awkward and sad. Hawke stood near the bow of the ferry, her arms crossed, avoiding anything that might make her have to face her predicament. An eerie fog hovered around the tower, the sky dim with smoke and ash. Had they truly been fighting so long that it had turned to night? Hawke shuddered at the distant flashes of light that told the tale of the fighting happening ahead. At least that meant there were still mages alive. Whether they were able to be saved was another story.

Isabela guided the ferry to the edge of the Gallows and Hawke hopped off, her companions behind her. She raced into the courtyard and into the chaos of the battle. The mages were defending, but they were slowly being driven back. Hawke picked her way through the sea of dead bodies as Orsino shouted, "Quickly, quickly!" He was pushing the mages up the stairs and into the relative safety of the tower.

As he pushed back one templar and slammed his staff into a second, the man's body flying into the air and landing in a heap at Hawke's feet, Hawke paused and looked up at him. "First Enchanter!"

"Champion! You've surived, thank the Maker! We must..." His words were cut off as a great rattling sounded behind Hawke, making her turn and take a step back. She ended up standing between Meredith and Orsino as they met each other with angry scowls.

"And here you are..." Meredith growled. Fenris stood at her back, drenched in blood. Hawke averted her gaze from him as she saw him balk at the hurt glance she had thrown him.

"Let us speak Meredith!" Orsino begged. "Before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect." It was a little late for that in Hawke's opinion.

"I will entertain a surrender. Nothing more," Meredith said curtly. "Speak if you have something to say."

Hawke glanced between the two of them, both looking like they were out for blood. She supposed it made sense. This had been coming for almost eight years. "Revoke the Rite of Annulment, Meredith, before this goes too far." Orsino was practically pleading. It felt like he knew that no matter how powerful his mages were, and regardless whether Hawke was on his side or not, they were not going to win this war. "Imprison us if you must. Search the tower. I will even help you. But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit." She noted his glance at Anders, but he quickly looked away.

Meredith was beyond pleading. "The Grand Cleric is dead, killed by a mage. The people will demand retribution, and I will give it to them." Orsino turned away, shaking his head in sorrow. "Your offer is commendable, Orsino, but it comes too late."

Hawke sighed. She had expected nothing more. "I was kind of hoping for a happy ending," she grumbled.

"I doubt we'll be seeing that," Orsino sighed as well.

Fenris spoke up, drawing Hawke's gaze. "You realize this is a cause you cannot hope to win."

Hawke pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. "I suppose dying with you at my side is too much to ask?"

Fenris balked and looked away, his mouth opening and closing in indecision. Then he looked up and his eyes narrowed. "I..." He looked to Meredith. "I have changed my mind, human. I will stand with my friend."

Meredith grunted as Fenris moved to stand with Hawke. "As you wish. I did not ask for your assistance. I suppose I should have expected no less from you, Champion. So be it. You will share the Circle's fate."

Hawke noticed Cullen standing sheepishly behind Meredith and trying in vein to hide his tall form from Hawke's accusing gaze. "So what is it to be, Meredith?" Orsino asked, drawing Hawke's gaze from Cullen. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. He had told her time and again he still supported Meredith in spite of her insanity. "Do we fight here?"

Meredith shook her head and her voice softened. "Go, prepare your people. The rest of the Order is already crossing the Harbor."

"This isn't over," Orsino growled, turning from Meredith and heading into the Gallows. Hawke followed, not bothering to look back. There was no changing Meredith's mind.

Orsino led them deep into the Gallows to a room with only one entrance that Hawke assumed must be the Harrowing chamber. The mages spread out among their peers who were already huddled in small groups around the room, some injured, others terrified. Orsino stood stoically in the middle of the room, glancing around at his people and sighing sadly. Finally, he squared his shoulders and lifted his head, clapping his hands together sharply to draw attention to him.

"My fellow mages, heed me!" Once he had everyone's eyes on him, he said, "The templars will come. For all our power, we cannot defeat such an army. There is only one option for us all... survive. Do not submit! Do not fall on your knees before them! Get out of Kirkwall! Spread word to the other Circles! They will not get away with this." The mood in the room shifted. Hawke felt the determination swell from the other mages at Orsino's words. He certainly knew how to give a pep talk. "Prepare your people, Champion," he said, turning to her. "and then speak with me. If we have any chance of surviving, it will be with your help."

Hawke nodded slightly and looked around at her people. Their mood was similar to the mages. They were disheartened and concerned. This may be the last chance she got to speak to any of them. Goodbyes were in order. Hawke hated goodbyes. She approached Fenris first and he glanced sheepishly at her. She wasn't angry. She knew how he felt about mages, but now she also knew how deeply his loyalty to her ran. Her heart swelled when he chuckled softly. "Here I am. About to defend these mages in hopeless battle. You lead me to strange places, Hawke."

She shrugged, returning his smile. "This isn't so strange, really. What's one more life or death battle?"

He smirked again. "An excellent point. Now the battle awaits us." As he said his next words, he gave her a short, respectful bow. " _Na via lerno victoria_. 'Only the living know victory.' Fight well." He reached out and squeezed her bare arm, their skin touching briefly, and he shuddered. She pressed her lips together and nodded with a small smile.

Aveline was standing the closest to where she left Fenris and she approached her oldest friend. "Captain," she said with a smirk. It was easier to talk to Aveline.

Aveline rubbed her forehead and chuckled. "Not for much longer if this goes bad. What a mess. You really put loyalty to the test, you know? Donnic has kept the guard protecting civilians. Meredith will have no support from them. With luck... well, let's just say we need some luck."

Hawke punched Aveline's arm lightly. "Starting to doubt me?"

"Never," Aveline said with her own smile. Then she smirked and amended her statement teasingly. "Almost never. Let's keep the damage to a minimum, shall we? I've walked away from too many wastelands for one lifetime."

They shared a hug and Hawke moved away to speak with Merrill who was putting her small amount of healing knowledge to use on some injured mages. When she saw Hawke, she stood and grinned nervously. "I feel like I'm forgetting something. Or there's more to do. Or... Does all this feel like a dream to you, too?"

Hawke chuckled softly. "In a moment, I'll look down and see I have no pants on."

Merrill's scandalized and giddy laughter rung out through the room. "The Champion of Kirkwall going into battle naked... Why can't I ever have that dream?" When she sobered, she looked down and wrung her hands. "Hawke, before we go... I..."

Hawke took her fidgety hands and squeezed them gently. "Haven't I said you worry too much? We'll be fine. Come on..." She left Merrill before the adorable elf made her cry.

A few feet away, she paused to place a hand on Isabela's shoulder to draw the pirate's attention. "Shouldn't you be half way to Tevinter by now?" she teased.

Isabela rolled her eyes with a small smirk. "Maker's breath! Take off with a priceless relic once and you never hear the end of it!" Her smile faded and she sighed. "Your life would have been easier if you had just cut me out of it." That was true for a lot of Hawke's friends. She shrugged. "But you stood by me. You defied the Qunari and fought their Arishok for me, even after I betrayed you."

"If you'd gone with them, I wouldn't have been able to yell at you," Hawke teased back, mirroring Isabela's former smirk.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you wanted to yell at me so badly then. I know I don't exactly inspire confidence, but I swear I'm going to come through for you this time," Isabela said, taking one of Hawke's hands in both of hers. "When you look for me, I'll be fighting at your side." Isabela leaned in and kissed Hawke's cheek gently.

Hawke smiled and squeezed her hands one last time before heading over to Varric who was making last minute checks on Bianca. "Nervous, Hawke?" he asked as she approached, not even bothering to look up.

Hawke shrugged with a sigh. "My mother didn't raise any stupid children. I know how dangerous this fight will be."

He finally looked up and grimaced. "Well, that's comforting. It's the most dangerous thing we could ever do, but at least we know that." He shrugged and swung Bianca over his shoulder. "You know me, Hawke. I'm not one for long goodbyes. I'm not sure we should be doing this. Helping dangerous people run amok, but I'm with you."

Hawke pursed her lips. "We've faced down worse things than this, Varric. What could possibly go wrong?"

"I hate it when you say that," he grumbled. Then with a sigh he said, "What do you say we put an end to all this waiting around and go meet destiny?"

Hawke patted Varric's shoulder and smiled sweetly before moving to the person she really needed to have a conversation with. He had been solemn and reserved, giving her the space that she had needed. When she approached him warily, he gauged her mood with a flick of his honey eyes. "I should have trusted you," he started off with a sigh. "Even with all we've shared, I never thought you'd spare my life." He paused and glanced down at the ground, taking a tentative step toward her. When she didn't back away, he continued. "If we live through this... You know I'll be hunted. No one in Kirkwall will offer me mercy. But... If you would join me, I would rather be on the run with you than safe with anyone else."

She sucked in a breath. Her life was changing no matter what. She no longer had anything tying her to Kirkwall, except her friends and she had a feeling after all of this, not many of them would be sticking around if they survived. She hugged herself and glanced up at him through her lashes. "Then we will be fugitives together..."

He smiled warmly and stepped closer, his hands wrapping around her biceps. "We can build a world where no one ever dies for being how the Maker created them." His thumbs grazed gently over her skin. "Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart. May the Maker bring us victory, or everything else is meaningless." He pulled her closer and touched his forehead to hers. "I will always love you."

She melted, closing the distance between their lips. As she relished what might be the last kiss they ever shared, his fingers slid up her neck and played lightly in her hair. She felt the single tear that slipped from her eye flow down her cheek and mingle between them. They both pulled away, Anders leaving her one last short peck at the corner of her mouth, taking the tear with him. His fingers remained in her hair for a few seconds, stroking gently. She choked out a self deprecating chuckle. "Can't we just leave now?"

He hummed his own chuckle, hugging her tight before he pulled away. "Not until Meredith is dealt with."

She cleared her throat and dragged herself away from him. "Then I need to speak with Orsino." She gathered her wits and headed over to the First Enchanter.

"Champion, are you ready?" he asked. When she nodded he gave a small, worried smile. Then you'll need to give orders to your people while I do the same for mine."

She left him to it and moved to a small section of the room that was not so crowded and beckoned her people closer. They gathered around her and she cleared her throat again. "We've all fought together before and templars are not a new enemy. Those of you without magic, pick a mage partner and keep the templars off them while they cast. It's the best way to get everyone through this in one piece." Once everyone had their orders, she moved her eyes from one of them to the next, taking in their concern. "So, this is it. Some of you are worried. Maybe I am too, but I'm not staying long enough to find out. What I know is that I don't like being cornered, and I can fight harder scared than they can angry." She smirked. "We're getting out, and I'm buying when we do!"

There was a loud thump outside the door and Orsino jogged to her side. "Champion, it is beginning."

She drew her staff and waited, Fenris moving instinctively to her side. Isabela was covering Merrill and Varric was making a very small meat shield for Anders. Aveline was off to the side, watching over everything at once. The door rattled again and Hawke knew the sound of a battering ram. She laid down no less than three glyphs at the entrance and she felt Anders and Merrill emulating her traps along the corridor that made a bottleneck of the door. The first waves through the entrance were going to have a very bad time of it. Someone laid the ground work for a wall of fire in an arch around the hall that spilled into the room. It would likely spring up as soon as anyone got close enough.

Hawke felt her spells burst as the glyphs activated beneath the feet of the first men through as the door shattered. She immediately set down more further in as the templar bodies began to pile up in the hall, making it harder for more of them to make their way inside. Finally, the templars started to bring their abilities into play and dispelled the majority of the traps that had been laid as secondary lines of defense by Orsino's mages. They trampled over their dead comrades and pushed past the wall of fire, the spell completely taken out of play. As a few templars made their way in, Hawke noticed a mage or two slipping past the madness and trying to escape. They were cut down almost immediately.

When there was a lull in the action and Hawke could take a breath and check on her people, she noticed Orsino looking around at all of the mayhem. "Look at it all," he sighed. "Why don't they just drown us as infants? Why wait? Why give us the illusion of hope?" He spun and growled angrily. "I refuse to keep running! I won't wait for her to kill me."

"I hope you aren't giving up without even taking a shot at Meredith," Hawke chuckled, taking Fenris' wrist nonchalantly and healing a small cut that was bleeding heavily.

"I am not giving up. I'm giving in," Orsino growled, a knife appearing in his hand. "Quentin's research was too evil, too dangerous, so I put it aside. But I see now there is no other way." More templars started to rush in and stopped in their tracks as Orsino shouted. "Meredith expects blood magic? Then I will give it to her. Maker help us all..."

He slit his own wrist and mana and blood began to swirl around him. Hawke shouted, but it was too late. His body lifted into the air and the sticky pull of the magic made her recoil. The bodies of all the mages around the room began to drag limply across the floor toward Orsino. As they reached him, they lifted, limbs flailing and flopping unnaturally as their clothes began to disappear and their flesh fused. Random body parts stuck out at strange places all over the massive lump of magically fused flesh and bone. Hawke could barely make out the shape of a man as the abomination grew and swelled before their eyes. When the spell ended, it had two spindly legs and two bony arms. The rest of it's body was a giant round ball with a nasty little head on top that had two sets of arms sticking out and flopping around comically from it's neck and where it's ears should have been. It's eyes were cloudy but they burned with anger. It's mouth gaped, showing off large rounded teeth from between which a long dripping tongue sagged. It let out a gurgling roar before it started to attack. It didn't discriminate, attacking not only templars but her people and it's own mages.

Hawke felt sandwiched. She spun and saw more templars coming down the hall and she threw up a wall of fire between them and herself. "You'll stay put while I deal with this if you know what's good for you!" she shouted. She ignored whether they were going to listen or not and began to attack the blobby Orsino.

The thing was made of magic and most of her attacks seemed to bounce off of it, so she clicked her blade free and moved in to begin slashing at it. Being so large, it was lumbering and slow. Hawke thought it defeated when the body fell to the ground, but from inside the neck, the head slipped out, looking like a gigantic grey tadpole with arms. It hissed and scurried away faster than she thought possible. "Ew," Anders said, perfectly summing up what was going on in her own stunned mind.

"Find it!" she shouted as shades and undead began to manifest around the room. Most of the other mages were already dead, having been slapped around the room by the hulking mass of flesh made up of their comrades. She did a head count of her own people and sighed in relief that they were all still whole. Then as they killed off the shades and undead, Hawke noted that a flow of magic was seeping from each of the bodies and into the mass, healing all of the damage that their blades had done to it. "Shit," she growled. Suddenly, the scurrying head reappeared, and flitted across the room, running on it's hands and jammed it's tail end into the hole it had left in the top of the monster. Then the abomination stood up, whole again, and swiped at Hawke and Fenris with a bony arm. She rolled out of it's way, separating her from the others. What she needed to do was kill the head. That was the source. That must have been what was left of Orsino himself. As the others worked to weaken the body, Hawke formed an idea. She sheathed her staff and ran for the giant thing. She jumped up and dug her heels into the squishy flesh of it's round belly and grabbed hold of the flopping arms coming from the head. She ignored the concerned shouts of her friends and began to repeatedly jam a knife hilt deep into the head, then pulled with everything she had. She felt the suction give and adjusted her hold, grabbing closer to the head. Pulling again, she gritted her teeth and leaned backward, pushing with her legs. Finally, the head wrenched free and Hawke had to toss it away and lean forward to ride the body down as it crashed to the floor. She scrambled up as quickly as possible while the head tried to right itself. No sooner had it gotten upright than she was across the room and jamming the spiked heel of her boot into it's face. The sickening crunch of it's skull and the squish of it's brains made bile rise in her throat, but she stomped a second time, just to make certain.

"Gross," Varric grumbled, quickly checking that her wall of fire was still in place and the templars properly kept at bay while they recovered. "You had better hope your house is still standing when this is over, Hawke. You need a really long bath."

"The house should be fine. The blast was concentrated to the Chantry alone," Anders pointed out, immediately pressing his lips together as several of them turned a glare on him.

"Come on. We still need to deal with Meredith," Hawke sighed, shaking her leg to flick most of the gore from her boot.

The fight through the tower led them to more and more carnage. She felt as if she were doing a terrible job of defending the mages. The ones that had been outside the Harrowing Chamber had either managed to flee or were among the corpses strewn throughout the Gallows. She tried not to look, ignoring all of the death that had been wrought. They found small pockets of hidden mages and she directed them to the tunnels that let out in the sewers. The templars they came across, she was forced to kill. When they made it back to the courtyard, Meredith was waiting with another small army. Hawke was relieved to see that Cullen was still alive and standing at the Knight-Commander's back. "And here we are, Champion. At long last."

Hawke brushed imaginary dirt from her sleeve and said, "I imagine you've wanted to be rid of me for some time."

"I bear you know ill will," Meredith said casually. "You've done this to yourself. You were never part of this Circle, and I tolerated that, but in defending them, you've chosen to share their fate."

Almost immediately, Cullen stepped from behind Meredith to face her and place himself blatantly between her and Hawke. "Knight-Commander, I thought we intended to _arrest_ the Champion."

"You will do as I command, Cullen," Meredith growled, as surprised by the insubordination as Hawke was.

Even more surprising were Cullen's next words. "No. I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad, but this is too far."

"I will not allow insubordination!" Meredith drew her greatsword and Hawke gasped at the pull of magic and the humming song that accompanied the act as the sword glowed red. "We must stay true to our path!"

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks," Varric whispered as Hawke recognized, barely, what she was looking at and Meredith pointed the sharp end at Cullen, making him back up a step, his hands up in submission.

Meredith glanced at them and grinned. "You recognize it, do you not? Pure Lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads." Meredith brought the sword in front of her and grazed her fingers gently along the blade. The red glow illuminated her face in the twilight hours, making her look the part of the sinister villain that she was already playing so well. "The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize."

"It seems a lot more sword-like than I remember," Hawke japed, trying to calculate how screwed they were. She had no idea what powers the idol held. Just a sliver of it had driven Bartrand mad and created a spirit golem to haunt an entire mansion. What could the sword do with Meredith at the helm?

Meredith sneered. "All of you, I want her dead!" Hawke stood her ground, trying very hard not to flinch as Meredith pointed the sword at her, the tip mere inches from her nose. The humming of the Lyrium song made Hawke's skin crawl. It was not the usual pleasant melody.

"Enough!" Cullen shouted. "This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander, step down! I relieve you of your command!"

Meredith's arm fell limp, her eyes widening in shock. "My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic. You all have! You're all weak, allowing the mages to control your minds, to turn you against me." She was turning rapidly and brandishing the sword in all directions, the templars around her all backing up instinctively as she accused them. "But I don't need any of you! I will protect this city myself!"

The sword was back in Hawke's face and she stared Meredith down boldly. Cullen stepped forward and drew his sword. "You'll have to go through me."

"Idiot boy," Meredith snarled. "Just like all the others."

"She's lost it, just like Bartrand," Varric whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Meredith took a deep breath and closed her eyes, twirling the sword so it pointed at the ground. She stabbed it into the stone and a rush of magic built up around her. "Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!"

Meredith rushed at Hawke, yanking the blade free. Hawke drew her staff and arched it between them, a wall of fire blazing up from the ground. It slowed Meredith only briefly as her blade cut through the magic. When Hawke swiped her staff upwards and connected with Meredith's chin, the woman stumbled backward and looked surprised. Then she rushed forward again. Hawke had never really seen Meredith fight before, and her skills were impressive. Even with so many surrounding her and challenging her, with the help of whatever magic the sword possessed, she was a force to be reckoned with. With hatred blazing in her eyes she fought. When they knocked her down to her knees, Hawke approached her, ready to finish it, but she called out. "Maker, your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!" Her eyes were glowing red and she stood.

Hawke's jaw nearly hit the ground as Meredith jumped and she sailed upwards to do a flip a few stories in the air before coming down with a crash onto the outcropping in the middle of the stairs. When she jammed the sword into the stone again, shockwaves of magic resonated outwards from her toward the massive bronze statues lined up outside the Gallows. One by one, the statues began to come to life, animated by the sword's magic. "This is what I was afraid of," Hawke grumbled as she backed further away from the statues and started to think about what types of magic might work on a 60 foot statue made of bronze. She started with the most obvious. "Get back!" She shouted at the templars who had rushed the legs of the statue as it stepped from it's perch and made it's way down toward them. She harnessed all of her electricity and unleashed it on the nearest statue. It froze, seizing as the lightning traveled through the conductive metal it's body. It fell quickly, the head rolling away from the rest of the body as more of the statues began to come to life. Hawke hoped that between the three of them, she Merrill and Anders would have enough electricity to handle all of the slave statues. They needed to take out Meredith. Fast.

It was difficult to get a lock on her as she flitted with inhuman speed back and forth through the fray and took advantage of the distraction of the statues. However, some of Hawke's magic hit the mark, even if it was a stray lightning bolt. Meredith retreated to her outcropping and did another of her power ups before darting back down to engage Hawke personally. The Knight-Commander was bleeding and had several bolts sticking from her limbs, but she didn't seem to notice as she swung at Hawke. Hawke dodged in and out of her reach, slinging all types of magic at her until Isabela stepped in as she began to flag. "Go see Fenris, poppet. He has a gift for you."

Isabela appeared and disappeared and reappeared behind Meredith, confusing the woman enough to allow Hawke to make her way across the field to Fenris who unceremoniously shoved his hand through her chest and lit her up with mana. When he pulled his arm free, he returned to fighting with one of the statues and she thanked him quickly before hunting down Meredith again. She was now tangling with a pair of rogues and Hawke blinked in surprise. "Zevran?" she gasped.

He glanced at her and winked. "I was passing through and heard there was trouble. I figured what better way to pay you back for your generous help with the Crows than to lend my aid. You did not tell me that you were associated with the lovely Isabela."

Hawke began to help in the battle and said, "I wasn't aware you knew each other."

"Zev and I go... way back," Isabela purred suggestively, making Hawke snicker and shake her head.

"Is there anyone you don't go 'way back' with?" Hawke asked teasingly.

Zevran chuckled uproariously as Isabela hummed in agreement. "You know very well that going way back with me is a lot of fun."

"Oh, I must have details of this affair after we have done it on all surfaces of your ship, Isabela," Zevran laughed again.

The revelry was short lived as Meredith took a bad hit from Hawke's magic and stumbled backwards, a few of the statues crashing to the ground. Hawke bore down on her as she shouted. "I will not be defeated!" She held the sword up before her, pointed at the sky. "Maker! Aid your humble servant!" Her voice was strained and the magic surrounding her was beginning to let off strange black tendrils of wispy smoke. When she drew on the sword's power again, it glowed a bright red and then suddenly shattered, a shockwave of energy knocking Hawke back and she shielded her eyes. The sword burst into so many pieces that they were too small to see as they were carried away on the wind. Meredith screamed in agony and clutched at her head as she fell to her knees, the magic swirling around her and burning her up from the inside. The short ragged shouts began to slow and as Hawke and the others watched, Meredith siezed and shook, her body freezing in an agonized claw at the sky before turning black, veined with fiery rivulets of orange as though she were made of cooling lava.

Hawke approached her with caution as the last of the statues fell. Her companions made it to her side, just in time for the remaining templars to surround them. Hawke stood stock still as the mood of the courtyard was decided in silence. One of the female templars ran over and knelt before Meredith, reaching out to touch her before pulling her hand back in fear before even making contact. Cullen watched it all stoically, his amber eyes moving back and forth from Meredith to Hawke. When the girl shook her head at him, he made one last brief scan of the room before making eye contact with Hawke. They exchanged an understanding and he took a few steps back, his sword lowering to his side. Hawke watched as the rest of the templars followed his lead and backed away, opening up a hole for her and her people to leave.

She didn't hesitate. She turned and took Anders' arm over her shoulder as she realized he was clutching his side and left quickly. She could scarcely believe they were all still alive. They boarded the ferry, Isabela steering them back across the harbor. Hawke helped Anders to a seat and knelt in front of him. "Do you have any potions?" she asked softly as she pushed his arm out of the way to take a look at the wound.

"It's fine," he grunted, taking her hands in one of his. "I'm all right, love."

"I hate to rain on the victory," Varric said. "But what do we do now?"

Hawke took her hands back from Anders and called her magic to heal his wound. "We can't stay in the city. Sooner or later, Val Royeaux will hear about this and the Divine will come for Anders. To keep Kirkwall from burning, he and I need to leave as soon as possible."

"Just say the word and I'll have the Jewel ready to weigh anchor," Isabela offered casually. When Hawke looked at her in surprise she shrugged. "What? I've been prepared for weeks. I was being serious when I offered to take you and boy toy on."

Hawke studied Isabela who offered a shrug and smile. "Okay. You ready the ship and we'll get back to the mansion and gather our things."

"I'm staying in the city," Aveline said predictably. "Donnic and Cullen will need help cleaning up this mess."

"Of course," Hawke agreed with a sad smile. "Keep my seat warm in your office."

"Like you ever use the bloody thing," Aveline said, swallowing her own sad smile.

Hawke stood and moved across the small ferry to give her friend a hug. Fenris cleared his throat. "If it's all right, I'd like to come with you."

"The more the merrier," Isabela said with a sly smile.

Hawke glanced between them as Fenris' cheeks flushed ever so briefly. He was saved from explaining when Merrill piped up. "I wasn't going to ask, but in that case, can I come too?"

Fenris snarled, but Isabela chuckled sweetly. "You're always welcome, kitten."

"Okay," Hawke said as the ferry docked. "Everyone go and gather what you need and we'll meet back at the Jewel in a hour."

"Hawke, can I talk to you for a minute?" Varric asked quietly as the others dispersed. He led her off to the side and she found herself swallowing a pit. "Listen, Hawke, I love you, like the sister I never had, but everything I've ever known is in this city. I understand why you need to go, but I can't come with you."

Hawke sniffed back the sudden tears that welled in her eyes and smiled. "I understand, Varric. I do, but I'm sure as hell going to miss you."

"I can't stand to see a human cry, Hawke," Varric said looking away as she swore she saw a glimmer in his eyes as well. She knelt, pulling him into a hug and holding him tightly. He froze for a split second before his arms wrapped around her as well. "Take care of yourself, Hawke. I'll keep an eye on your stuff and make sure it's waiting if you ever decide to come back."

"I promise I'll write to you once a week," she swore, pulling back from the hug and smiling through her tears. "I love you too, Varric." She pulled him in, kissing his forehead before pulling away completely and moving to join Anders who had waited by the stairs up to Lowtown.

Anders wrapped an arm around her shoulders and as they started up the stairs, he asked, "Everything all right?"

"Varric is not coming," she confessed, wiping away a stray tear as she gathered herself. They had a lot to do in the next hour and she couldn't let Varric distract her.

 


	22. Unions and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders return to Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, obviously, is my personal opinion on how things went down for Hawke.

When they got back to the mansion, it was still standing, just as Anders had promised, but through the courtyard out front, she could see the gaping hole that his spell had left in place of the Chantry. She did her best to ignore it as she opened the door. "Mistress! You're safe!" Orana cried, flinging herself at Hawke. "When the Chantry exploded, I didn't know what to do! Bodhan took Sandal and left. He begged me to come with him, but I couldn't. I was so worried for you and Master Anders."

"It's all right, Orana," Hawke soothed, stroking the terrified elf's hair as she shuddered in her arms. "Bodhan did the right thing... Listen, Anders and I are going to be leaving the city for a while. Varric is going to be looking after the place, but you are welcome to stay here if you wish. If not, I'm certain Varric would be willing to help find a place for you."

Orana looked around as she pulled away from Hawke. "You have been so kind since you rescued me. I would be more than happy to stay and make certain the mansion is taken care of. It's the least I can do to repay your kindness."

Hawke patted the girl's arm. "If you ever change your mind, I'll understand. Just speak to Varric."

Orana smiled and tipped her head. "Of course, Mistress."

Anders started up the stairs, but instead of heading for the bedroom, he went straight for the lavatory. When she cocked a brow in question, he smirked. "We're not going to want to flee in our armor. It's a little conspicuous. I'm going to clean up before I change."

She bit her lip, agreeing that it was a good idea. "I'll pack while you wash up, and then we'll swap. It'll be quicker."

He looked her up and down and then nodded his agreement. As much as she wanted to have a conversation, she was not quite ready for anything quite so intimate as a shared bathtub. He seemed to understand. "I'll draw you a fresh bath when I'm finished."

She went to their bedroom and took her traveling pack from the floor of the armoir. Packing a single change of clothes, she stripped out of her armor and wrapped the dirty pieces in a spare sheet so she could clean them later. She pulled on her robe and went around the room gathering things she would need as well as a few personal items that she couldn't leave behind. As she set out a change of clothes, Anders came into the room, his dirty armor in his arms and a towel around his waist. His hair hung loose around his face and dripped onto his naked chest. She bit her lip as she couldn't help but stare. A red mark stood out on his ribs where she had healed the wound earlier. "Did you need me to look closer at that?"

He glanced down and touched the red spot. "Meredith got a piece of me with that bloody sword. I'll be fine in a few days. Justice kept the raw lyrium from over loading my nervous system. If it had been you or Merrill... let's just say you wouldn't be standing in front of me."

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, taking a step toward him and reaching out to touch the red mark, her fingers brushing lightly over his skin.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from him. "You should go get cleaned up. I promise. I'm fine." His smile was strained.

She pulled away and picked up the tunic and pants she had set out. "I won't be long."

She fled the room before one or both of them broke their unspoken celibacy agreement until after they'd had a private moment to catch their breath and discuss things. It was hard to believe that it had barely been half a day since they had been curled up in bed together. Everything had happened so fast. She quickly scrubbed the muck of the numerous battles from her skin and hung her robe on the nearest hook, dressing in the casual clothes she had chosen, her tunic drooping off her shoulder as they always did. She shook her head, letting her hair fall as wildly as it usually did and headed back toward the bedroom to gather her pack and some weapons and her staff. She whistled sharply and Alfie appeared quickly, barking wildly and bounding up and down in her path. She chuckled and pushed him bodily aside as she made her way into the room. Anders stood packed and ready, his bag already slung over his shoulder and a small grin on his face. "I need to get one more thing from my clinic before we meet up with the others."

"Did you want me to come with you?" she asked. She was loathe to let him go anywhere alone.

"I waited for you," he said, still smiling.

"Okay," she said, picking up her things and strapping a few knives on her person before pulling her coat on over her tunic. "I'm right behind you."

They left the mansion through the basement and Anders slipped briefly into the clinic, reemerging with the little stuffed tabby cat she had gotten him for Wintersday so many years ago. He smiled sheepishly as he tucked it into his pack beside his mother's pillow. "Best gift I've ever gotten."

 

When they arrived at Isabela's ship, there was a small crowd gathered to see them off. Varric said a few more goodbyes to the others, handing Hawke a flagon of ale from the Hanged Man. Norah brought Hawke several bags of her raspberry tea and swept her into a hug. Charade and Gamlen stood together, smiling as they waited their turn. "I'll be sure to keep him honest for you, Cousin," Charade said with a grin as Gamlen grumbled a curt farewell. Aveline and Donnic promised to keep Kirkwall standing while she was gone. The last and most surprising visitor was Cullen.

He stood by the edge of the dock, looking rather embarrassed. "Fancy meeting you here," Hawke teased as she approached him.

He lifted his arm up, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks reddened slightly. He was sporting a fresh cut above his lip on the right side of his face. It had been tended to without magic and was likely to scar. She hadn't noticed it when they had left the Gallows, but she had been most focused on getting the hell out of there before the templars turned on her. "I don't have much time. I think the next few months are going to get pretty busy while we clean up this mess. With Meredith dead, that makes me the Knight-Commander around here."

"Cullen, I know your past has colored your views on mages, but please, don't let that turn you into Meredith." Hawke placed a hand on his forearm, and for once, he didn't pull away from her touch. "You have it in you to be fair to those remaining, and turn the position of Knight-Commander into one that people can rely on and put their trust in."

Cullen chuckled and then sighed, gazing across the water to the Gallows. "You certainly know how to sway an audience, Hawke. I can't promise what will happen, but I can guarantee that I will _never_ be as blood thirsty or narrow-minded as Meredith. Never again. Your family has a way of showing me that mages are not all bad."

"Alert the Chantry! A miracle has occurred," she paused and then grinned. "Just wait until we're out of chasing distance before involving the Chantry, alright."

"Like I said, I can't promise what will happen," he said with a devious smirk. His hands landed in the hilt of his sword in a relaxed stance as he smiled at her. "Take care, Hawke. I'll try to be as vague as possible when I describe the ship you left on."

She chuckled. "I'm fairly certain it was lime green and festooned in pink ruffles with a purple dragon as the figurehead..."

He mimicked her laughter, "I believe you're right." With one final smile, he sauntered off.

The others had already boarded and Isabela was standing at the top of the gangplank, her hands on her hips. "You're not even on board and already your asking to be keelhauled. Get a move on poppet!" she called with a grin.

Hawke walked half way up the incline toward the ship and turned to glance one last time at the home she was leaving behind. Alfie was beside Isabela on the deck, his front paws on the rail, his tongue lolling as he watched Hawke join them. She knelt and helped Isabela pull up the plank and then Alfie dropped his paws back onto the deck and followed them up to the wheel. Hawke watched as Isabela showed her around how to weigh anchor and get a ship out of dock. Zevran was showing a rather irritated looking Fenris how to work the sails below while Merrill watched.

Once they were out of dock and officially at sea, Isabela asked, "So, did you have anywhere in particular in mind?"

"Would it be too obvious if we went back to Ferelden?" Hawke asked. "With Sebastian gunning for Anders in the Free Marches, and the Divine stalking Orlais, it might be the best place to hide. The King seemed... sympathetic."

"It makes as much sense as anywhere else," Isabela agreed with a shrug. She pulled out a compass and twirled the wheel until they were pointed south. "With fair winds, we should reach Amaranthine within a few days."

"Thanks, Izzy," Hawke sighed, gazing out over the water and hugging herself.

Isabela cleared her throat. "Let me show you around below decks. I've got a room ready for you so you can set your things down and settle in." Isabela took her under the deck where a lavish room was set aside for her. A large bed was pushed against the far wall and a small writing desk and chair sat to the right. "This is usually where the first mate rests their head, but seeing as we don't have one just yet, I figured..." she shrugged.

"It's perfect," Hawke agreed, dropping her pack onto the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed to test it's bounce.

"Well, I've got to get back to steering. Shout if you need anything." Isabela disappeared before Hawke could thank her again and Hawke flopped back onto the cushiony bed. She laid, staring at the ceiling for a while until she had gathered her thoughts and then she went searching for Anders.

 

She found him sitting at the bow of the ship, watching the waves as the ship cut through the otherwise calm ocean. His expression was relaxed, content even, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts. Hawke hunted for a place to sit, where her view of the ocean wouldn't be obstructed by the figurehead that was most definitely not a purple dragon. She settled in beside him and stared for a moment at the intricate and very lifelike carving as a gull perched on it's head. "Leave it to Isabela to choose the bustiest mermaid I've ever seen as her ship's figurehead."

"Nothing says pirate ship like busty mermaids," Anders said, glancing up at the pointed nipples and snorting before turning his gaze on Hawke instead. "At least we know there's a chill in the air."

"It makes it easier to cut through the wind resistance," Hawke nudged him with an elbow as her tunic slipped from her shoulder again.

His eyes followed the fabric and he slowly looked her up and down with something akin to adoration, his amused grin still in place. "Thank you," he said softly as he turned his head to look back at the water, his earring glinting in the moonlight as the wind pushed his hair from his face.

"What for?" she asked curiously as she followed his gaze toward the horizon.

"I..." he sighed and paused as if searching for the proper words. "When you fought the Arishok, I wanted so badly to be angry about how you had handled it. I know what it feels like to be torn between relief and disappointment and anger. I know what it feels like to loathe what the person you love has done, yet be unable to bring yourself to hate that person in spite of your better judgement. It's... confusing. So thank you for not outright hating me."

"I don't think my stomach and my heart are going to be in agreement for quite some time," she said lightly, realizing that he had perfectly summed up exactly what she was feeling.

"I know what I did was wrong, and I know that a lot of innocents died because of it, but Meredith's reaction was coming no matter what happened. My actions simply hurried it along," Anders explained. "It was a means to an end."

"That bloody idol was what drove Meredith off the deep end, but you are right. It was coming even if you had never blown up the Chantry. I'm just glad we were there to stop her before even more life was lost." Hawke sighed and slumped so her forehead hit the rail. "Confusing is not a strong enough word, Anders."

They sat in silence for a time, both of them unsure how to move forward. Anders broke the silence first. "So where are we going?"

"We'll be docking in Amaranthine in a few days," Hawke explained. "From there, I'd thought we could make our way south into Ferelden and see what sort of spark Meredith and Orsino and, well, _you_ may have started in the mage community."

He glanced at her, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes wide. "You... you still want to..."

"What? Fight for mage freedom? You know all of these years, I haven't been doing all of this to impress you, Anders," she said with a smirk. "I _do_ care about what happens."

He let out a soft chuckle. "The Divine is _really_ not going to like us."

Her laughter joined his. "When have I ever bowed to authority?" Another short silence fell over them, but it was Hawke to break it this time. "Is... Is Justice... quiet?"

"He feels... fulfilled? You surprised him, you know?" Anders answered with a small frown.

"How so?" she asked, a light breeze shifting direction to tug on the sails above and making her shiver.

Anders reached over and lifted her tunic back up to drop it onto her shoulder. "He was actually convinced that you were going to put a knife in my back."

She shuddered again, but this time it was not from the cold. "If I'm being honest, when the Chantry first went up, I was half convinced myself."

"What changed your mind?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "It's like you said to me. I don't think it's actually possible for me to hate you." She picked up his hand and pressed her palm to his, bouncing a small ball of energy between them. "Remember?" When she finished her demonstration, she kept his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and shifting closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I wish things could be different, but what's done is done. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don't agree exactly with _how_ you did it. At this point, I'm too exhausted to care about anything really."

He turned his head and laid a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "You should get some rest, love."

"Will you come with me?" she asked tentatively, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "It's just... I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," he said with a smile.

She led him down to her cabin and closed the door behind them. After kicking off her boots, she climbed beneath the silky sheets and laid down. The bed behind her shifted as Anders joined her beneath the sheets. He grunted softly as he made room for himself on the narrow mattress, still lying on his back. Hawke rolled her eyes and sighed, wriggling closer to him, her back pressing against his arm. Anders took her hint and rolled to his side, his body wrapping around hers. His breath against her neck was warm when he spoke softly into her ear. "I wasn't sure you'd want me here."

"Baby steps, Anders," she said, allowing him to slip his arm under her neck and pull her closer.

"I'll take what I can get," he said with a small chuckle as his other arm wrapped around her waist.

She took his hand in hers and closed her eyes, letting the madness of the day claim her consciousness.

 

The rest of the trip to Amaranthine was spent by Hawke just trying to keep the peace. It seemed as if her family had been split in two and all of the sane members had been left back in Kirkwall. The only one not making waves was Merrill, and that was because she was too busy chucking her stomach into the ones splashing by below. That didn't stop Fenris and Anders both calling her a liability both behind her back and to her face. Hawke had been tempted to tell Merrill to stay with Isabela and Zevran when they had been dropped off in Amaranthine, but with the way she handled the open ocean, she would never survive the life of a pirate. Hawke was watching all of her people closely and by the end of the trip was convinced that Isabela and Fenris were sleeping together. Zevran was quite pleased with the matter and was desperately trying to convince Fenris to allow him to join them. The assassin was particularly fond of Fenris' tattoos and offered several times to remove his clothing so he could show his own, which apparently spread far beyond the sweeping lines on his left cheek. Needless to say, Fenris was one lewd comment away from reaching into Zev's throat and yanking out his voice box.

She and Anders came to an understanding that had them starting fresh. She didn't know how long it would take her to get over what Justice had shaped Anders into, but it was strange that she had seen more of the old Anders since leaving Kirkwall than she had in years. When he wasn't scowling at Merrill or arguing with Fenris, he was smiling and laughing, and every time she heard his carefree chuckle, her heart couldn't help but hope that what he had done would finally allow him to be free.

Amaranthine was a bustling city, but it was nothing compared to what she was used to in Kirkwall. When Isabela brought the Jewel into port, Hawke had already gathered her things and slipped into her coat, pulling her hood up over her head to help blend in with the crowds. She didn't know how far news had spread about Kirkwall and she didn't think being recognized was such a good thing just yet.

"I'd forgotten how cold this city could be," Anders sighed, moving up beside her as she knelt to bring down the gangplank.

"Know of any good inns where we can keep a low profile for a day or two while we resupply?" Hawke asked him when he knelt to lend her a hand.

"The Crown and Lion was always the best place to remain anonymous in Amaranthine, so long as they've rebuilt. Last time I was inside, it was full of creepy pill bug Darkspawn," he shuddered.

"I really don't want to know," Hawke mused as she started toward the dock.

She and her friends gathered around, Merrill still a bit green, but looking much better now that her feet were on solid ground again. "Oh, this city is so shiny compared to Kirkwall," she mused, looking around and shifting her pack on her shoulders.

Hawke glanced around at all of her friends and sighed. This was a bittersweet time. She had already had to say goodbye to so many people, but now she knew there were going to be a few more added to the list of casualties. She had had several long and meaningful conversations over the last few days about the future that was best for everyone. As much as she loved her friends, and knew that they would stand with her through everything that she and Anders needed to do, she thought it best that they go to pursue their own passions. For Merrill, that meant traveling among the alienages of Thedas and helping the elves that lived in them. Fenris had needed convincing, but she had finally gotten him to stay with Isabela, at least for a while. That meant the two of them would be sailing off in a few days after Isabela hired a few more for her crew and restocked supplies.

Alfie pushed his way between her and Anders, his hindquarters wagging excitedly at all of the new scents of Amaranthine. She reached down and scratched his ears. "Well, I suppose this is it," she said softly.

"Not forever!" Merrill squeaked. "I'm going to write to you all the time, Hawke. And I think we should promise to all meet up every year for Wintersday."

Fenris crossed his arms and rolled his eyes even as Isabela smiled sweetly and rubbed a hand up and down Merrill's back. "I think that sounds like a fine plan, Kitten."

"Good! Someone will write Varric and Aveline and tell them, won't they. Wintersday wouldn't be the same without them after all." Merrill's eyes were glistening and Hawke offered her a small smile and pulled her into a hug which was returned with a strength that Hawke had no idea Merrill possessed.

After they parted, Isabela swooped in and said goodbye to Hawke, practically smothering her between her breasts when she hugged her. And then when she moved on to Anders, Fenris took hold of Hawke's arm and led her a short distance away. "Listen, Hawke, there's something I want you to know. As you're undoubtedly aware, Isabela and I..." he didn't need to finish as Hawke nodded. "I just need you to know that with her, it's not like it was with you. I don't... see things. There are no flashes from my past, no... memories coming back to haunt me. I'm not certain why those things happened, but I don't regret our short time together. Just... be careful." his eyes flicked to Anders who was saying his goodbyes to Merrill. "I feel like I'm abandoning you..."

"Fenris, you have your own life. I want you to live it, like I plan to live mine. Our paths may lead us in completely opposite directions, but hopefully, it's only temporary. We'll see each other again. I promise," she assured him.

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer after eyeballing Anders again. "Just make certain it's not because something terrible has happened."

Hawke sighed and pulled Fenris into a hug before he could protest. She was surprised when he hugged her back, his arms gently folding around her. "I know you don't trust him, Fenris, but you should trust me. I promise, I'll be fine."

"I'm holding you to that, Hawke," he said before stepping away.

Hawke rejoined Anders and Alfie and with one last smile and wave, they parted ways.

 

They were only a few days in the city before Hawke, Anders and Alfie set off toward Denerim. Hawke thought it only polite to let the King know that they were in his country. He had been willing to try and do what he could for her city when it was in trouble. Before Hawke caused him trouble, she thought warning him was prudent.

They had been on the road a week and Denerim was close. Ferelden was chillier than she remembered, and she huddled up in her coat as she and Anders walked side by side along the King's Road. It was strange to be back and she wondered if he felt the same way. "Is it odd for you?" she asked.

He shrugged, adjusting his pack as Alfie perked up his ears at the break in silence. "Ferelden was never really home to me, just a stop along the way. I spent most of my life in the Anderfels where I was born. I didn't come into my magic until later than most. I was 12. My _father_ turned me in to the Circle. That's when I came to Ferelden. I spent the rest of my formative years escaping from the Circle only to be dragged back again. Not many pleasant memories in this country."

"Sorry," she said quietly, plucking a leaf from a bush along the side of the road and tearing it into tiny pieces. "Though I suppose Kirkwall wasn't much better for you."

"Kirkwall is where I met you," he said with a playful nudge that knocked her to the side of the road. She used the momentum to step back into him and he chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist. Alfie bounded ahead, barking, his nose in the air and Hawke tensed. "All right, love?"

"Someone's coming," she said, drawing a small amount of mana into her palms in case the traveler was not friendly.

The bark of another mabari echoed from around a bend in the road, and Hawke continued forward, Anders' arm around her waist, but his own magic at the ready. A woman's voice accompanied the barking as the large brown dog met Alfie in the middle of the road and they immediately moved to sniff each other, tails wagging. "Barkspawn! What in the Maker's name... you can't just go around sniffing strange butts..." The young woman rounded the corner as well and Hawke paused as Anders' magic was reigned in and his hold on her waist loosened. "I'm sorry, he's usually not quite... so... Anders?!"

Hawke took note of the specialized Warden Armor the woman wore peeking out from under a thick cloak and then studied the rest of her. She carried a mage's staff and had long brown hair braided off to the side, dangling from inside the hood that was pulled up to hide her features from prying eyes. Her eyes were a clear crystalline green-blue and her lips both full and delicate. At her shocked expression of his name, a small orange head popped up from around her shoulder and Anders gasped a choked cry. It seemed he was struck dumb by the sight of her and Hawke nudged him as the cat wriggled free of the woman's pack and leapt to the ground to swirl around Anders' feet and mew softly. He knelt and reached a hand out to stroke down the cat's back and the tabby immediately climbed up on his knee and then onto his shoulders to wrap around his neck like a scarf, purring noisily.

"And just like that, I've been replaced," Hawke said with a bemused expression.

The woman snorted and crossed her arms. "I swear, he's happier to see that damned cat than he is me." She looked to Hawke and quickly sized her up with her sharp gaze before smiling. "I'm Solona Amell, and _you_ must be my cousin, Hawke." She offered a hand and Hawke reigned in the magic she had forgotten she had prepared and took it. Solona shook her hand firmly and continued. "I'm sorry I never had a chance to respond to your letter. The Wardens have kept me pretty busy lately." She glanced around Hawke at Anders and pursed her lips. "If you and Pounce are finished, I'd like a hug."

Anders chuckled and moved closer to the small woman. From her size and age, you'd never guess she was the Hero of Ferelden. "It's good to see you, Amell." He bent his knees and wrapped her in a tight hug which left her howling with laughter as he picked her clear off the ground and spun her once.

After she settled back on her feet and brushed her armor straight, she seemed to remember something and glanced up at him, her lips pursed. Then she pulled back her fist and punched his bicep. "You stopped writing!"

"Ow," he said with a chuckle, rubbing the sore spot. "I'm sorry. Things have been busy."

"What are you doing in Ferelden?" Solona asked, her eyes flicking between them before a sudden realization dawned on her and her jaw fell. "Are you... what happened in Kirkwall... Oh, Anders, tell me that wasn't you."

"Not quite," Hawke said as Anders hung his head at the horror-struck look in his friend's eyes.

"Justice..." Solona said knowingly.

"So you knew?" Hawke asked, a single brow raising.

"I... suspected... After Justice disappeared from the corpse he had been inhabiting, I had hoped that he had returned to the Fade, but then..." Her eyes flicked from Hawke and landed on Anders with a regretful expression. "Anders, I'm sorry for how the Wardens treated you. I can't blame you for leaving..."

Anders chuffed and reached out to knuckle Solona's chin. "If there's anything I'm good at, it's running away." He grinned.

Solona pursed her lips before a teasing grin spread across her own lips. "Speaking of which..." She looked to Hawke. "How have you managed to keep him in one place for almost nine years?"

Hawke shrugged. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors about Kirkwall... Blood magic everywhere..."

Solona chuckled. "I figured as much." She paused and looked between the two of them again before continuing. "Where were you heading? Anders tells me you're from Lothering..."

Hawke bit her lip. "We were actually heading to the capitol. If you've heard the news already that must mean that some of the mages made it out of Kirkwall after everything... blew up..."

Solona shook her head. "We don't know much. The mages who came to us were terrified and could barely get their stories straight. I was on my way to Amaranthine to take ship so I could investigate the matter. Alistair wants the real story before he sends any aid from a foreign country. Meredith wasn't exactly welcoming the last time he extended an olive branch."

"Well, you won't need to worry about Meredith. She burned to a husk in a very unfortunate lyrium accident," Hawke said with a shudder as she remembered the sword taking over Meredith and the subsequent fried Knight-Commander. "Authority wise, Kirkwall is likely being run by the Guard-Captain and newly appointed Knight-Commander Cullen."

Solona snorted. "Wait, Cullen? Rutherford?" She seemed mildly impressed.

"He mentioned he knew you," Hawke confirmed.

"He oversaw my Harrowing," she said and her expression took on a haunted look. "Then after the Circle fell, we found him in a bad way. I didn't think he would still be serving the templars." Her voice dropped, almost as if she were talking to herself. "Although I suppose after what happened, he would be exactly the type that Meredith was looking for in her inner circle..."

"If you don't mind my asking, why are the Wardens sending you to investigate? Don't they have people in Kirkwall already?" Anders asked.

"The _Wardens_ would rather ignore the fact that anything happened in Kirkwall. I, on the other hand, and King Alistair know that whatever happens with Kirkwall will have an effect all over Thedas. The mages are getting antsy and the templars don't like it. Ferelden tried independence once before, but the Chantry quashed that pretty quickly. So I've taken some personal leave and was going to go have a look myself."

"Well, we might just be able to save you the trip," Hawke offered.

Solona smiled and tipped her head behind her. "It's getting late and we'll never make Denerim before dark. Why don't we make camp and you can tell me what happened."

They did just that, Hawke doing most of the talking as Anders listened, only filling in for the small details she didn't know about. When Hawke had finished, Solona was frowning. "You said the lyrium was red?"

Hawke nodded. "And it seemed to have strange qualities that I don't normally associate with lyrium."

Solona hummed thoughtfully. "I'm going to put you in touch with Stroud. He's our Commander in the Free Marches... He might be able to find out more about the stuff. The First Warden doesn't really like me very much. We've never even been invited to Weisshaupt for tea."

"We've met, actually," Hawke offered, grinning at Solona's fake pout. "Stroud and I, I mean." She remembered the curt, yet sympathetic greeting accompanied by the most epic mustache she had ever seen. "When the Qunari attacked the city, he was passing through. I know someone with a shard of the red stuff. He's got it stored in nesting lyrium safe boxes, he says to 'keep the song at bay'. It's pretty nasty stuff."

Anders had moved off to the side of the camp and was lying on his back on his bedroll, Ser Pounce-a-Lot curled up on his chest as his eyes drooped. Solona looked past Hawke at the dozing man and sighed. Her voice lowered. "I wish I had something to offer you, Hawke. Anders... he's been through so much. I thought the Wardens could be a home for him, but that was when I was in charge. After Justice..." She sighed again. "I'm sorry. I should have seen that coming."

Hawke smiled at her cousin. "It's nobody's fault. Anders convinced me a very long time ago that when he merged with Justice, he truly meant well. I believe he did. Spirits are tricky things..." Hawke realized she was rubbing a hand up and down over the scar on her bicep and she squeezed it before placing her palms deliberately on her knees. "I know how easy it is to be manipulated by them."

Solona reached over, a hand landing over top of Hawke's. "Thank you, for taking care of him." Her chin pointed toward Anders. "Don't tell Nathaniel, but Anders was always my favorite recruit."

"He talked about you often," Hawke said with a light chuckle as Solona pulled her hand back. "It seemed like you were the only thing he really liked about the Wardens."

"He never did like being tied down. I recruited him to keep the templars off him, but I'm not certain I improved his life. Being a Warden is... trying... on it's best days." Her eyes took on a distant look as she seemed to lament her own situation for a moment. "But while he was with me, that damned man saved my life more times than I can count."

"He mentioned you're not much of a healer," Hawke said with a grin.

Solona snorted. "That's putting it mildly." She lifted her hand, a tug on the magic around them told Hawke she was weaving a spell, but the blue hue around her palm sparked and died in an instant. "I'm absolute rubbish."

Hawke chuckled. "Then I'll bet his skills came in very handy."

Solona bit her lip and looked Hawke up and down for a moment before scooting closer to her and looking around her again to be sure Anders was asleep before whispering, "He mentioned in his letters that you two shared core harmony." Hawke was amused to see the wondrous look in her cousin's eyes. The mighty Hero of Ferelden was looking at _her_ , awestruck. "What's that like?"

"I always know when he enters a room. It's like his magic and mine are always calling to each other. When we cast near each other, it's not like with other mages where your spells sort of bounce off one another... it's more like they weave together," Hawke explained as best she could. Hawke glanced over at Anders and the contented expression of deep sleep that came with the cat curled up on his chest. "He makes my skin hum."

She hadn't meant to say the last out loud, but when she pressed her lips together and flushed, Solona giggled softly. "My next question was going to lead me down the path toward a much uglier question, but I think your explanation just answered the ugly question for me." When Hawke's brows rose in question, Solona smiled. "You seem like a sensible person, cousin. I was going to ask what drove you to pursue him in spite of all the heartache he was trying to convince you he was going to cause, and what kept you around after the deed was done. Now I know."

"I like a challenge," Hawke shrugged. "And I don't give up easily. The more he tried to push me away, the more I needed him. Once he gave in, it was easy to keep him. I think he needed me as much as I needed him. He still does... Which is why I can't abandon him. Not after everything..." Hawke didn't realize she had shed a tear until she tasted the salt of it drip onto her lips. She took a deep ragged breath. "I've lost too much. I can't..."

Solona surprised Hawke by pulling her into a tight hug. Before she could completely break down, she heard a soft stirring from Anders' bedroll. He had rolled to his side and was frowning, Pounce deposited onto the bedroll to flick an irritated tail at him before padding around his head to share his pillow. Hawke pulled from the hug and moved to kneel beside Anders and smooth the wrinkles from his forehead as he fought whatever spirits plagued him in the Fade as he dreamt. Her touch eased his frown and she brushed a stray bit of hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear where it never stayed put. His tense muscles relaxed and his hand reached over to where she would normally be sleeping. When he found her missing, his eyes opened almost immediately, searching for her. When they landed on her, he smiled. "You're still up?"

"Just getting to know my cousin," she said with a painted on smile that he recognized immediately as false.

He sat up on his elbow, his frown returning as he studied her. "All right, love?"

She nodded, her lips pressed together. "I'll be along in a minute. Go back to sleep."

His honey eyes rolled up and down her briefly before he decided not to argue, his head settling back down on his pillow and Pounce curling up in his hair like a nest. She got up and trudged back over to Solona, where the woman watched in curiosity. "We should all get some rest. I'll take you to Alistair in the morning."

"Thank you for listening," Hawke said, exhaling a breath that she felt like she had been holding for 8 years.

Solona grinned. "I've never had blood family before. It's nice."

Hawke snorted. "It's overrated. Your real family is the people you choose to surround yourself with. I learned that lesson the hard way. If they happen to share your blood, then so be it."

 

The next day as they trudged down the King's road, Anders and Solona were a short distance ahead of Hawke, the pair of mabari who had been fast friends between her and them as she trailed behind, in awe. Anders was practically giddy as he and the spunky cousin of hers caught up, chatting and laughing. It made her realize that she had never truly seen Anders with a real friend. Everyone he associated with was in his life because she had brought them together. It was an interesting change to see him joking with someone _he_ had chosen that wasn't her. It brought a smile to her face to realize that the original Anders was not completely lost behind the spirit.

It was midday when they reached the city gates. Solona led them through with the familiarity of years. She was a wonder, moving through the streets like some ethereal thing, making everyone she came in contact with break into a smile. She knew all of the guards she passed by name and inquired after their families. Hawke craned her neck as they passed into the Denerim market. It put the Hightown market to shame. A central circle of stalls had a canopy draped over it, supported in the center by a single thick pole. The canopy was vibrant and the ropes that secured it all around the market sported multi colored flags that added to the wash of color. It was nearly spring and several of the indoor shops had their doors propped open to chase out the stale air of the winter months. The city was a bustle with merchants hocking their wares, and customers haggling for the best deal.

"You've never been to Denerim, then?" Anders asked, breaking her from her thoughts. He had dropped back to stand beside her as Solona spoke animatedly with a few of the shopkeepers.

Hawke shook her head. "We never had any reason to travel this far north. Doing so with three mages was asking for trouble, so we stayed mostly around Lothering."

Anders offered her a devious smirk before taking her hand and leading her to a nearby stall. He held up two fingers and Hawke watched as the merchant smiled and turned to plop a dozen or so small balls of bread dough in a large cauldron of boiling oil. The oil sizzled and popped as the balls sunk and then quickly bobbed to the surface as they browned. He fished them out and deposited them into two small bags before sprinkling them generously with powdered sugar and exchanging them with Anders for some coin. Anders passed her one of the paper bags and she raised a brow. "These were my favorite treat whenever I would make it this far from the Circle." He plucked one from his bag and took a bite. He closed his eyes, smiling as he chewed. When he swallowed, he opened his eyes to glance at her and she was smirking, enjoying watching him be happy.

The bite had left a small bit of sugar on his lip and she pointed. "You have a bit..." She took hold of his tunic, pulling him to her so she could capture his lips with hers. She savored the taste of him, sweetened by the powdery confection and smiled as she pulled back. "There, much better." She licked her own lips before dipping her fingers into her own treat bag and pulling out one of the dough balls to pop it in her mouth.

He was grinning from ear to ear as he watched her discover the wonder that was the tiny balls of fried dough. Pounce reached from around Anders' neck and pawed at the bag. Anders chuckled, breaking off a tiny piece of the dough and offering it to the cat who took it in his mouth from Anders' fingers before lowering his head back down to enjoy his treat. Solona sidled up to them, her cloak pushed back off her shoulders and her hood down to show the sun shining on her glossy hair. Hawke picked out hints of auburn mingling with the brown as her cousin turned a smirk on them both. "Ready to head to the palace?"

"Whenever you are," Hawke said, folding over the top of the bag and placing the unfinished treat in her pack for later.

Solona led them through the equally impressive palace district and up to an enormous castle. She smiled to a few guards at the front door but ushered Hawke and Anders around to a side entrance. As soon as she passed through the door, she sighed in contentment, unfurling her cloak from around her shoulders to hang it on a standing rack that had an arm that jutted out of it's side where her staff immediately followed the cloak to lean. "I don't like making a fuss when I come and go," she said by way of explanation as she led them further into the castle. "Its after lunch time, so Alistair is likely in his study pretending to look busy so the staff will leave him alone."

Hawke chuckled as Solona smiled in adoration. It was the same look she got on her own face when she would catch Anders asleep at her desk with a quill still nestled in his fingers and ink on his face from where it rested on his stacks of manifesto revisions. She supposed those times were a thing of the past and she felt a pang of sadness at the loss of routine. Everything had happened so fast. As she strode through the finely decorated palace halls, following her cousin, her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and an excited exclamation. "Sol! You're back! Already, that was fast..." The tone went from happy to suspicious quickly, but it was somehow still full of love. Hawke came around the corner of the door, Anders at her side to see the king's hands resting gently on her cousin's hips. They seemed to have a silent conversation as Solona explained their presence with a quick series of head gestures and brow movements. When Alistair looked up and recognized her, his eyes widened. "Hawke..." he moved only inches from his spot, his hands falling from Solona so he could reach out and shake Hawke's. "Since you're here and Sol has only been gone a few days, I can only assume that the struggle to hold Kirkwall together was less than successful and you've fled?"

"That's a safe assumption," Hawke agreed, taking the offered handshake.

"Good, because the last thing I need is the old saying about assuming coming true." He sighed. "All right, I've heard some rumors, but I'm not interested in rumors. Let's go somewhere more comfortable and you can explain everything. If Sol brought you here, it's because you know what happened first hand."

After they relocated to a blandly decorated sitting room, Hawke launched into her story again, just as she had told Solona the night before. Her cousin was sharing a small chaise with the king, his arm around her shoulders, a thumb grazing lightly and slowly over her bicep. They were both listening intently, Solona looking like she was trying to pick up on anything she might have missed through the previous telling. Hawke and Anders were separated into the armchairs on the opposite side of a short legged table. As Hawke was speaking, tea was brought as well as an assortment of cheeses and other biscuits and sweets that all remained untouched. Hawke bit her lip as she finished up the retelling and then locked eyes with the king. "With the Circle in Kirkwall all but gone, and the chaos of what happened to the Chantry, we left, hoping that we might save the rest of the city by splitting up everyone involved so the Divine wouldn't know who to chase."

Alistair looked from Hawke to Anders and then to Solona who nodded. Then he looked back to Hawke. He pulled his arm from around Solona and placed his hands on his knees. "Well, it seems to me that the two of you would be the primary targets of the Divine's wrath. I could... help you hide. I've gotten rather good at shrugging and looking stupid."

"That's a generous offer," Hawke said, the 'but' at the end of her sentence hanging in the air. The king's intrigued 'mmmhmm?' made her continue. She glanced at Solona who seemed as interested in whatever idea she had as Alistair was. "We've come so far for the cause in Kirkwall... Solona mentioned unrest in the Circle here as well. We thought we might..."

"Stir up some trouble with the mages here as well," Anders finished for her.

Alistair's eyes narrowed, but he did not outright protest. "You won't be blowing up anything... we've only just redecorated after the Blight."

"No explosions," Hawke said quickly. "We just want to talk to them. Let them know that it is possible to get out from under the Chantry's heel."

Solona frowned. "I might have a more effective solution." She glanced at Anders and grinned. "After everything that's happened, it's likely the College will be convening in Cumberland. I might know someone who can get me the details of when. If you can crash their meeting and convince some of the higher ups in the Libertarians, it might start a chain reaction."

"In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to make yourselves scarce," Alistair suggested again.

"Can we think about it?" Hawke asked, not certain how she felt about hiding. She had never hidden from anything in her life.

Alistair smirked and looked to Solona. "Well, my dear, it looks like the palace just received a pair of visiting dignitaries from some obscure country. We should have the guest rooms made up."

She smiled back. "I'll let the staff know." She stood and leaned over to plant a kiss on the king's head before strolling from the room.

Alistair watched her go, a goofy smile on his face before turning back to Hawke after her rear had disappeared from view. Then he shook his head and snorted. "Somehow I knew you'd be trouble when we met in Kirkwall."

"I like to live up to my presumed reputation," Hawke said with a shrug.

"Well," Alistair said with a grunt as he stood and held a hand out to Hawke. "I have kingly things to pretend to do. Sol will handle your accommodations. If you'll excuse me..." Hawke took his hand and he shook it. "I hope you'll consider letting us find somewhere for you to lay low."

 

The room they were given was lavishly decorated with silks and embroideries. A four post bed stood along the far wall and the fireplace burned low. A row of bookshelves held all sorts of different types of reading material from the mundane to the educational to downright saucy. Hawke ran her fingers along the spines of the books, while Anders inspected the large tub that had been brought up and filled. They were both covered in a weeks' worth of travel grime and Hawke had felt like a pig pen as she stomped through the pristine castle in her muddy boots, leaving a trail of caked dirt in her wake. She plucked a copy of 'The Art of Passionate Love' by Brother Capria. Flipping through the pages, she snickered as she realized exactly why the book had been banned by the Chantry. She turned around to smirk at Anders, holding the book up for display to a particularly vivid colored picture. "We've never tried this one."

He glanced up, and when he saw the picture, a devilish grin spread across his own face before he tipped his head to orient the couple wrapped around each other. "Sweetheart, I'm not certain we could handle that without a lot of practice and limbering exercises."

Hawke snorted, turning the book back around to get another look at the picture again. "You're probably right. I could never get my leg up there." She flipped the page and another picture had her turning the book on it's side with a frown as she tried to find the third person that belonged to the extra limbs that seemed to be everywhere.

"Okay," Anders said with a short chuckle, moving to her side to pluck the book from her hands and close it. He stepped closer so he could reach around her and reshelve the book. "If you're going to torture me, it will make it much more difficult to keep my hands to myself."

Hawke bit her lip and closed the distance between their bodies even further. "I might prefer it if you didn't."

Anders' expression shifted to surprise and his eyes flicked to hers. "But I thought you..."

She lifted a hand and touched it to his chest, cutting off his words as a finger slipped inside the V of his tunic to glide across his skin. "I've had a lot of time to think..." Hawke was telling the absolute truth as it dawned on her. Somewhere along the line, she had realized that in spite of the awful nature of Justice's actions, it had to happen. They had been stagnating in recent years as Hawke tried to keep the peace. The enormity of the Chantry explosion had brought the beginning of a revolution to a head. Peace was not the answer. Changing the world was not going to happen without bloodshed. "I love you, Anders. I always will. Our lives together will be short enough as it is, what with the taint. I don't want to waste any more of it trying to sort out a moral dilemma that doesn't exist. The Chantry and it's people have never been innocent. You... were right."

He backed her into the books, his arms shifting so his hands gripped the shelves on either side of her head. "Are you certain, love? I don't want to move too quickly and cause awkwardness. I want us to be together, Maker knows I do, but I want it to be right for both of us."

She deliberately slid her hand from his chest, up around his neck and her fingers slipped into his hair to massage the back of his neck. His eyes closed and she could feel the effect of her ministrations after so much time apart as he pressed against her and his head dipped so his forehead rested against hers. "Perhaps we should warm up that water and help each other ease some of the knots in our muscles. You're a bit tense."

The soft exhalation through his nose was accompanied by a smile. His hands that had been gripping tightly to the shelves moved to land on her shoulders and glide down her arms and land on her hips. He pulled her against him. "What happened to baby steps?"

"Never listen to me..." she chuckled before using her grip on his neck to pull his lips to hers.

Passion exploded between them. For the next few moments, there was a clambering of limbs as they both tried to touch every inch of the other while their lips were still locked together. Clothing flew around the room in a whirlwind. Hawke tripped over one of her boots, erupting in giggles as she fell against Anders as he backed them toward the tub. He chuckled as well. "All right, all right... Let's... breathe. I want to make this last." He pulled away from her, offering her a splendid view of him, fully naked and ready to deliver on the heated passion she felt bubbling in her gut. He held out his hand, the other arm tucked behind his back as he offered her a bow and a cheeky smirk. She took his hand and he helped her step into the tub after brushing a finger along the rim to heat the water. He followed her in, both of them settling into the steaming water. She sagged into him, the water doing a fine job of making her skin tingle as some of the sweat and grime was scrubbed away by the aromatic salts that had been added. His hands rode up her arms, no longer avoiding the red scar on her bicep as he had for some time after it had lingered. His long fingers caressed over it and she shuddered as they ended on her shoulders, digging artfully into the meat of her collar.

She hummed in contentment, her fingers idly tracing up and down his thighs before she began to work them deeper, exchanging the relaxing massage in equal measure. Just having his hands on her skin was beyond welcome. She turned her head, shifting around so she felt his arousal brush against her lower back. He met her lips with a kiss, her head tipped back for a better angle. One of his hands ceased massaging and roved around to trace over her sternum and up so he could cup her chin and deepen the kiss, allowing her to surrender control. His other hand began to wander, sliding down her back and around to rest over her stomach. He pulled her against him, allowing the water to lift her up so when she came back down, he slipped easily along her, his full length as it brushed her opening making her shiver. Once she was where he wanted her, the same hand followed the length of her core, dipping lower so his fingers were exploring her labia. After so long without his touch, she almost dreaded the inevitable spark that she felt him preparing as he drew on the mana in his chest. She pressed her back into his chest, making certain that he would get a taste as well as the subtle electricity arched through first her and then him. She felt him react, his erection twitching higher to remind her just how close he was to being inside. His head pushed hers aside and he leaned over to take a playful nip at her neck, shifting his hips as a double reminder. He simultaneously sent another spark through them. "Sweet Maker," she gasped as the pleasure tickled toward her core and fell frustratingly short. He knew what he was doing, and his devious chuckle told her so as it rumbled from his chest through her body. "And you said I was torturing you," she mumbled as he took another chunk of her flesh between his teeth and bit down lightly.

"Are you complaining?" he asked with a chuckle, his fingers tracing around her ever so lightly.

"Andraste, no."

The hand he had resting on her neck slipped down to give a tight squeeze to each of her breasts in turn. "Good..." When he gave one more squeeze to her left, he shifted down in the water, the fresh angle and a little help from his own fingers helping him slip inside her. "Now, relax," he whispered in her ear.

The shallow entry from behind made every stroke glance over a brain dulling spot of pleasure while his fingers worked her from the front. Her arms reached out of the water and she braced herself against him, her knuckles whitening as she gripped tightly to the lip of the tub. He had abandoned the attention on her neck as the pleasure built, his panting breath caressing her skin where his mouth and the water had moistened it. When he released another spark directly into her clitoris, she let out an uncontrollably loud moan as her muscles clenched and the dam he had built came crashing down, washing over her entire body. His own cry of pleasure was a mix of ecstasy and laughter as he lifted his free hand up to try and stifle her before the entire castle knew what they were doing. His laughter flowed into a gentle chortling/shush as he muffled his own orgasm against her neck.

She let her fingers loose and her arms splashed back down into the water. "Maker, I've missed that," she sighed through his palm. His hand left her mouth and he began to kiss lightly up and down her neck as her limbs quieted their twitching.

He snorted and teased her jokingly. "You just wanted to do it in the Ferelden royal palace."

She chuckled. "That was just an added perk. I wonder if the sheets are as comfortable as they look."

He took another gentle nip of her neck. "Once we've cleaned all of the road dust from ourselves, I'd really like to find out."

"Have I mentioned how much I love Warden stamina?" she said with a smirk as she craned her neck to look around at him.

"On..." He leaned in and kissed her shortly, a smile across his lips. "Several occasions."

Once they had thoroughly worn each other out, Hawke was lying on her side, her left arm tucked between them, her head on his chest and her free arm wrapped tightly around his waist. She was reveling in how good it felt to be together again in earnest as they laughed softly and talked like they hadn't done in a very long time. She was so distracted, that she almost didn't catch the question as it slipped from his lips as casually as if he were requesting another drink at the bar. "Marry me, Hawke."

She hummed a chuckle, and he tensed when her response was not immediate. As it dawned on her what he had said, she pulled her arm toward her so her palm rested on his chest and used it to hoist herself up and turn to look at him. "What did you just say?" she gasped, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might punch straight through her chest.

"I didn't think I stuttered," he said with a small chuckle, reaching up to caress his knuckles against her jaw.

"No... but if you didn't, then I must be more sex drunk than I thought, because I swore you just asked me to marry you," she managed to say in a calm and teasing tone of her own in spite of the turmoil of excitement and emotion that was thudding around inside her. They had been together for so long without ever discussing marriage that she had assumed that he was simply content with their relationship as it was.

"And if I did, what would be your answer?" he asked her, outwardly calm until she looked into his eyes and saw the panic that she might shun him.

Her hand trembled over his chest and she felt his heart hammering as wildly as her own. "Yes?" she whispered, her wavering voice uncertain.

"Yes?" he repeated, a small frown wrinkling his brow and making her realize how terribly she had fumbled the delivery.

"Yes!" she repeated a third time, swinging herself up and straddling his waist before leaning down and peppering him with kisses and punctuating every kiss with another giddy 'yes'. He grabbed her around the waist, flipping them around so he could replace her short excited kisses with one long passionate one, his strong arms holding him above her and his hair dangling down to tickle her nose when he pulled away. He gazed down at her, his face haloed by his strawberry blonde tresses and the biggest smile she had ever seen on his lips. She drew him back down to her to taste that smile against her own cocked lips. "A million times, yes."

He moved from atop her and dragged her against him across the silken sheets, their legs twining together as they attempted to press close enough to share another lengthy kiss, chest to chest. "I didn't exactly plan this, so forgive the absence of jewelry," he apologized, his hand resting on her hip.

"I have to ask... after all of these years, what made you finally pop the question?" she wondered, her own arm reaching around until she had a handful of his rear.

He shrugged awkwardly in their position and smiled. "Everything in my life has been a constant question for nearly nine years. I never knew where my life was going from day to day. I didn't want to drag you through the muck with me. Today? Today was different. When the king offered to hide us away, suddenly, a quiet life with you at my side didn't seem so out of reach. Once we've gone to Cumberland, the rest is out of our hands. The dominoes have been tipped, it's only the question now of whether they are stacked close enough together to continue to tumble."

She frowned slightly and tipped her head. "And what does Justice have to say about this revelation?"

"Surprisingly, he agrees. He assumed I would be dead by now and he would be back in the Fade. You can only go so far in the fight for Justice as one person. Sooner or later, the oppressed need to rise up and take care of themselves or it's a pointless battle."

She grinned. "So, he's what... taking a vacation?"

Anders bumped his nose to hers with his own grin. "You know it doesn't work that way."

"I do know that I've been seeing more of the man I met and fell in love with nine years ago, instead of the 'grumpy pants' I've been living with recently," she taunted, using Merrill's description.

"No more grumpy pants," he promised, planting another sweet kiss on her lips before hugging her against him.

 

When they rose in the morning, Hawke was surprised to be invited to breakfast at the King's table. She fussed over the dress that Solona had brought to her while Anders adjusted his doublet. The dress was clearly one of Solona's own, the hem reaching just above Hawke's ankles and thankfully no higher. With such short notice, Hawke understood that there hadn't been time to stitch a new dress that would fit her properly, not that she would have accepted one. She owned only one dress, and it was the one she had worn for Aveline's wedding. She hadn't even had it repaired after it had been slashed by the carta dwarves that Corypheus had sent.

Using the extra room in the top of the dress that would normally house Solona's larger chest, she dipped the shoulders of the dress down off her own shoulders and tugged the dress downward so it would at least reach the tops of her feet. "There... how do I look?" she spun quickly as Anders lifted his eyes from his clothes to glance at her.

A smirk tugged at his lips and he said, "Like a slightly ridiculous vision that still takes my breath away."

"It's a good thing you proposed last night. I don't think I can forgive that cleverly worded insult," she said as she rolled her shoulders, a sharp bit of fabric jabbing her in the back from the stretched neckline. "I suppose it will do. Let's go have breakfast with royalty."

"Do you suppose there will be bacon?" he wondered, leading her from the room with his fingers brushing the small of her back.

"What's breakfast in a palace without bacon?" she gasped.

"Disappointing?" Solona's singsong voice joined them from down the hall and Hawke paused to let her catch up. The tiny Warden looked much softer out of her armor with her hair done up off her neck. She gave Hawke a once over and drew in a hiss. "Sorry about the height issue. I wouldn't normally insist you dress formally, but Arl Teagan showed up at the crack of dawn for some business or another." She flapped a hand and rolled her eyes.

Hawke shrugged. "As you can see, I've made do." Hawke had not only noticed the change in Anders, but in herself as well. Without having to constantly worry herself sick about what was going on in his head, things had begun to roll off her like water off a duck's ass as they had in the past. It felt good to be this carefree again.

"My, my, Anders, you clean up nicely," Solona said as she made certain his borrowed clothes were suitable.

"Amell, you're going to make me blush," he said mockingly.

Solona snorted. "I've seen you drunk. Nothing can make you blush."

"Ooh, what was that like?" Hawke wondered.

Solona drew her lip back before flicking her eyes up and down Anders. "Sloppy," she teased.

"How dare you!" he said in mock horror.

 

Awkward was not a strong enough word for the atmosphere that circled the large dining table once Arl Teagan had realized who was joining them and had heard the story of Kirkwall. Alistair spent the entire meal talking a mile a minute, making awful jokes and trying to make up for the otherwise thick silence broken only by the scraping of silverware on china. Solona shrank in her seat every time the room went quiet and Alistair would start up again. Hawke was convinced that if it kept up much longer, she might disappear beneath the oak slab completely. Finally, her cousin righted herself and cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself. "So, I've written to Wynne. She will know more about the meeting of the College than I do."

"Do you think they'll allow us in? We aren't exactly First Enchanters," Hawke pointed out. "I mean, Andraste's knicker weasels, I'm not even a properly Harrowed mage."

"No, but I will go as representative to mages within the Wardens. You two will be my entourage. That's your way in," Solona said with a shrug.

Solona and Hawke kept up a conversation, the others joining in on occasion, and by the end of the meal, Teagan politely excused himself and asked Alistair to join him. Hawke released a breath in a sigh and slumped in her seat further than Solona had. "Do you still think hobnobbing looks good on me?" she asked Anders, making him chuckle and pat her head.

"Everything looks good on you, love. Except that dress."

She reached over and halfheartedly punched his shoulder, making him chuckle. "On that note, if the stately duties are finished..."

Solona flapped a hand. "Be my guest. Like I said, Teagan was a surprise. Maker knows what he wants."

After she and Anders had changed, Alistair seemed to be free of his 'sort of' uncle and Hawke was wandering the castle. She bumped into the king who immediately offered her a friendly smile and gestured for her to walk with him. "So, Sol tells me you're cousins?"

"My mother was an Amell," Hawke agreed with a nod. "Her running off with my apostate father was sort of a point of contention among the rest of the family. Although I suppose it runs in the family."

Alistair sighed. "In a different world, Sol would be nobility. It kills me that just because she was born with magic I can't ever give her the title that she deserves. As far as I'm concerned, she's the queen that Ferelden deserves, if not officially."

Hawke shrugged. "She seems content in her position. She's a born leader from what I've seen. She doesn't need a title or an official slip of paper to know where she stands in court."

Alistair grinned widely. "That must run in the family, too."

"What's that?" Hawke inquired.

"A witty tongue and wisdom beyond your years," he shrugged.

"I don't know. If you'd have met my brother..." Hawke began before they were interrupted by Anders appearing from down the hall.

"I'll leave you to it. I have to hold court at some point today or the peasants will be climbing the walls," he sidled off with a smirk.

Hawke waited for Anders to approach her, Ser Pounce-a-Lot padding quietly behind him, and she greeted him with a kiss. "Where did you disappear to?" she asked.

"I needed to remedy an oversight," he said, pulling a shimmering silver band from behind his back. Around the top of the ring was a row of small rubies set into the band itself. As she studied the stunning ring, Anders' cat wove in and out from between their legs, begging attention.

"It's beautiful, and we both know that..."

"Red is your color," he finished with a happy smile. He lifted his other hand, beckoning. She laid her left hand in his palm and he slipped the ring onto her slender finger. "It looks even better on you." A small excited squeak interrupted them and Hawke caught Solona's dress dipping back around the corner from where she'd entered. Anders chuckled and called out. "It's all right, Amell. You're not interrupting."

"I'm sorry," Solona said, gracefully slipping around the corner, her cheeks flushed. "I was just on my way to sit in on court. Alistair likes me there for moral support."

"I promise, the actual proposal came last night. I was just a bit underprepared," Anders assured her, beckoning her over so he could hold Hawke's hand out to her.

She approached and glanced at the ring before looking up at both of them and drawing them into a crushing hug that Hawke was certain she put physical magic behind to make tighter. "Oh, Anders. It's so good to see you happy. You had me worried."

"Now all we need to do is find a Chantry mother willing to marry two apostates," Hawke joked with a shrug as Anders' arm slipped around her waist.

"I... may be able to help you with that," Solona said with a smile.

 

That was how a week later, Hawke was standing before Anders in a long 'as close to white' dress as they could find with a train the length of her own body draped over the stairs behind her. Her jet black hair was adorned with a crown of Andraste's Grace flowers. Solona had loaned her ladies to Hawke to sweep her face with delicate makeup. She was beaming at the man who with a wide smile across his face was reciting his vows to her. Solona and the King stood to the rear of the room, as witnesses and the mother was the only other eyes in the room. Hawke felt a sudden pang that her family couldn't be there to see her so happy or to help her celebrate afterwards. She missed Varric the most. Pushing that all to the back of her mind, she focused on Anders. She watched his lips move as he promised to love her until the day he died. Finally, the mother held out her hand, blessing them with a short prayer and he was hers forever. He swept her into a deep kiss that left his lips lightly stained with her rouge. She chuckled and brushed it away with her thumb. "Well, you're stuck with me now."

"I can think of worse fates," he returned as Solona and Alistair approached them.

"I offer unofficial congratulations from the crown, but my personal ones are completely genuine," Alistair said, patting Anders on the shoulder as Solona pulled Hawke into a hug and sniffled.

When she pulled away, she made a mocking snarl of disgust. "Does this mean Anders is my cousin, now?"

"It's too late to worry about that, now," he mocked. "You, after all, are responsible for making it happen. I had no plan at all after slipping a ring on her finger."

Alistair chuckled. "Isn't that always how it works?"

 


	23. Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The College of Magi meets in Cumberland an Hawke and Anders go into hiding.

They had officially been married for a month, and most of it had been spent traveling from Denerim, across the sea to Nevarra and west to Cumberland. The bustling port town was awash in activity up and down it's cobblestone streets. The buildings that lined the streets all stood three stories or taller and were ornately decorated with carvings and tapestries. Large signs stood out from the businesses lining the wide streets that could accommodate two carriages abreast. The whole city was peppered with wide open courtyards that housed tall statues of some dead hero or another, each with it's own large plaque that described why that person should be worshiped. They put her Champion statue in Lowtown to shame.

Hawke fit right in with most of the Nevarran culture, seeing as they were known as a country of Dragon slayers. Even though she would much rather _be_ a dragon than have to slay another one. She also found their preoccupation with necromancy and venerating the dead a little unsettling.

She, Anders and Solona made their way up from the docks toward a section of the city that was much more familiar in design, reminding her of the dwarven carved buildings in Kirkwall. A tall iron arch stood over the road as they passed into the district reading, 'The Dragon's Den'. "What is this place?" Hawke wondered aloud.

Solona turned her head toward Hawke, half of her face hidden behind her hood. "This is a much larger scale version of the merchant's guild in Kirkwall. I've never been there personally, but Anders described it in his letters." She pointed ahead of them to a blocked out building whose sign read, 'The Diamond Lass'. "That's the inn we've been set up in by the Conclave."

"Are all Circle mages so..."

"Uppity?" Solona finished for her with a smirk. At Hawke's smiling nod, Solona's smirk turned into a grin. "Most of the mages we're meeting with are First Enchanters and have held that position for years. They're old and yes, most of them have lived in a Circle all of their lives, so luxury is a given."

"The proverbial 'gilded cage'," Anders added and Solona touched her nose.

They stepped into the inn and Hawke had to allow her eyes to readjust to the dark interior. Dark most definitely did not mean dim she quickly realized. The walls were purposefully coated in a shining coat of black paint and the corners accented in a border of white that shimmered with gold filigree inlays. Soft music played from a back corner where a stunning woman with long black hair plucked artfully at a harp. Several heads turned to regard the three hooded strangers that had entered and immediately turned away as they took note of the staves strapped to their backs and Solona's blue Warden armor peeking from beneath her cloak.

Solona moved toward the bar where she was greeted by the innkeep and he handed her a pair of keys and directed her upstairs. With a practiced, diplomatic smile, she thanked him and waved Hawke and Anders to follow her. The upstairs was as lavishly decorated as the common room. Along the walls were silver sconces every other doorway in a zigzag pattern down the hall. Hawke could feel the humming of mage light coming from inside the crystal domes that housed the glow. "The Wardens live much better now than I remember," Anders remarked as they followed the hall to their rooms.

Solona shrugged and made a noncomittal sound of disagreement. "Technically, the King of Ferelden's mistress lives this way. If the Wardens had set us up, we'd be in tents outside the city."

"That does sound more likely," Anders agreed with a snort. "Well kudos to you, your royal lady paramour."

Solona threw a key at him which he caught. "Shut up or you will be outside the city in a tent," she threatened.

They went into their rooms and removed their staves and packs before heading back down to the common room for a meal and a drink. When her drink arrived in an crystal goblet, she was amazed to feel runing humming along the surface when she picked it up. The first sip she took was surprising as it was cold enough to have been left out in the winter air. "Fascinating," Anders mused as he studied the rune work. "This is similar to that icebox that Sandal enchanted for milk storage in the clinic."

"Wait, Sandal Feddic?" Solona asked, her eyes widening. "You knew Bodhan?"

"I should hope so," Hawke answered. "He and Sandal lived in my house for almost six years."

Solona let out a soft chuckle. "Did they just sort of move in without notice?"

"Mother's doing," Hawke admitted with a nod. "Seemed to think he was repaying me for saving Sandal in the Deep Roads by fetching my letters."

Solona smiled into her chilled ale. "Yes, they tend to do that." Then she took a sip.

The evening was pleasant as they shared a few drinks and Solona prepared them for how they were likely to be greeted by the mages. Even with all of the prep work, by the time she and Anders headed up to bed, her stomach was queasy with nerves. Everything they had been working for over the last years had all led to this one very important meeting.

 

The College loomed over most of the rest of the city, visible from everywhere. It was as intricately designed as the rest of the city, two spires jutting up from the rest of the building. The tallest was golden, the dome atop it glittering in the morning sun. The second was topped with a mahogany dome. They were known respectively as the Sun Dome and the Red Auditorium. This building was quite literally where the magic happened. The College met under this roof and elected their Grand Enchanter, the one mage responsible for representing them all to the Chantry and advising on all things magical. Two years ago, a former Grey Warden returned to the Circle in Montsimmard and quickly rose to First Enchanter and was then elected Grand Enchanter soon after. She was, according to Solona, driven from the Wardens after a mission almost thirty years ago that had removed the taint from her veins. A look of longing had passed over her cousin's face at the mention of being stripped of the taint. Anders had also perked up, but immediately sagged when Solona explained that not even Fiona knew how she had been cured. Grand Enchanter Fiona was apparently as Libertarian as they came, and Hawke agreed that she was their best chance at swinging the vote in their favor.

Surrounding the College was a great deal of Templars. Hawke pulled her hood further onto her head to hide her face more thoroughly as Solona demanded they be allowed entry. The templars paid them little heed as they passed by on Solona's heel and once they were inside, Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. Both mages and templars milled about in the entryway and the groups spilled out into a great hall that was lined with rows upon rows of auditorium seating. Tensions were high as they made their way through the hall toward a dais where a single chair stood facing the rest of the room. A podium was set up off to the side, runed specially so whomever was touching it would have their voice amplified over the room. In Hawke's experience, this many mages and templars in one place spelled trouble and her stomach flip flopped again, making her swallow nervously.

"That's the Grand Enchanter." Solona pointed out a small and unassuming elf with short black hair and wide green eyes that held a fierceness directed at the person she was speaking with.

The woman standing with her wore a daring one piece outfit whose silky fabric melded to her skin like it was painted on. Her skin was dark and her features sharp. Large lips took up the majority of her face, but she wore them well, painted subtly. The white and blue of her clothing was mirrored with a matching skirt that was split twice in the front and back. Her head was topped with what the Orlesians called a henin. It was a hat that sprung up dramatically on both sides making her look as if she had two thick horns. As the three of them approached the Grand Enchanter, the sharply dressed woman turned a disapproving glare on them before sniffing and leaving Fiona with a biting remark. They clearly stood on opposite ends of the divide.

"Good day, I am Grand Enchanter Fiona." She cocked her head as she studied the rag tag group before her, her eyes landing on Solona in particular with curiosity. "I don't believe we have met. I don't recognize your faces from previous meetings."

Solona tipped her head respectively. "My name is Solona Amell. I have come to represent a voice for the Grey Warden mages. I would like to introduce my companions, but their identities are a bit controversial in spite of the need for them to be here."

Fiona's interest shifted to Anders and then Hawke, her sharp green eyes sizing them up. "There is no need for introductions. Your clothing is clearly out of the Free Marches, most notably Kirkwall. You must be Kirkwall's Champion. And you..." she directed a gaze at Anders which Hawke could not decipher. "You are the one who turned Kirkwall's Chantry into a stain on the map." Hawke and Anders both reacted, standing taller, ready to defend what happened. Fiona's head tipped again before she let out a soft chortle. "Oh, you think I disapprove? On the contrary. I returned to the Circle after I was shunned from the Wardens because I want exactly what you want. Freedom from the yoke of the templars. Unfortunately, I am not the only one you need to convince here."

"Oh, I don't know, I can be pretty persuasive," Hawke said wistfully, playing it cool even as she wished she had a bucket to hover over as her insides swirled angrily.

"Let us hope you are good at convincing old fools that are stuck in their ways, then," Fiona said, gently touching Hawke's arm in encouragement. "Au revoir."

Fiona moved away from them to exchange pleasantries with some other mages and after a few more minutes, everyone started to find places to sit. Hawke, Anders and Solona took seats in the front row as Fiona settled in to the large chair on the dais. After the murmuring died down and the room went quiet, she stood again and moved to the podium. When her hands touched the wood, Hawke felt the magic spark and when Fiona spoke, her thick Orlesian accent boomed out around the hall. "Welcome Enchanters. As you all know why we are here, I will skip the explanations and get straight to the point..."

The meeting went down hill from there. Arguments from both sides exploded around the room for hours until finally, Hawke had enough. As the woman with the henin spoke in a carefully schooled tone, about how mages owed it to the common folk to protect them from the dangers of magic, Hawke stood from her seat and in a crisp tone she cut in, "What about all of the good that magic can do for the people?"

The woman looked down at Hawke as if she were something foul that she had stepped in. As her eyes rolled up and down her person, they paused on the scar on her arm and her carefully applied mask slipped just briefly before she spoke. "No mage is safe from the influence of demons. That influence can level entire cities. You, my dear, obviously know all about the temptation of blood magic."

Murmurs broke out among the other mages and some of the templars around the room twitched. Hawke refused to be cowed. "I have lived in Kirkwall as an apostate for the last nine years. As an apostate, I was part of a clinic that helped the poor and forgotten of the Undercity who would have died without magical healing. Men, women, children, _infants_. The Circle abandoned them. As an apostate, I fought for my city, defending it to nearly my last breath. Knight-Commander Meredith knew who and what I was, but still she called on me for help when mages escaped her Circle. I've never been stuffed in a room full of templars waiting to take my head while they drugged me into the Fade and threw demons at me. I was raised by an apostate with Circle training. I know as much about magic as any Circle mage, more even because I wanted to learn so I could protect myself and the ones I love. Magic is not evil and mages aren't evil. The Circles breed fear of magic and make mages desperate for any taste of the outside world. I say that I'm the better mage for having been raised with enough sense to make my own decisions and learn my own strengths and weaknesses. Forcing mages to be Harrowed, killed or be made Tranquil forces those of us fighting for the basic right to exist and do so freely, to make every fight a life or death encounter. Bickering amongst ourselves will not enact change. We are all here today because someone had the guts to take a stand and show the world that all mages should not be blamed for the actions of the desperate few. We should all be brave enough to take that stand!"

As she finished, a cacophony broke out among the assembled mages. Hundreds of shouts of agreement gave Hawke a dizzy feeling and she dropped back into her seat. Anders' hand immediately gripped hers and squeezed. As order seemed to leave the Conclave, Hawke glanced up to visibly judge the expressions of the voices as they shouted. That was when she noticed a man with distinguished features wreathed in long gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard that matched striding purposefully toward the podium. The dark orlesian enchanter who had been speaking had stepped quietly from the dais and disappeared into the crowd. The man wore armor similar to that of the templars, except instead of the sword of mercy across his chest, he wore the symbol of the sunburst. He worked directly for the Chantry. "A seeker," Anders gasped, his hand closing more tightly around Hawke's.

When the man reached the podium, his hands slapped down on the wood with a loud thwap and his voice roared out over the assembly. Several mages were on their feet as they argued and the templars around the room had begun to close in. Hawke could feel the tension so thick that she could have cut it with a knife. At the sound of the deep rasp of the man, all heads whipped around to see who was shouting. "THAT IS ENOUGH! THIS CONCLAVE WILL COME TO ORDER OR EVERY MAGE HERE WILL BE TRIED FOR TREASON!"

There was a heady silence that fell momentarily over the room in which Hawke felt the draw of mana all around. "Look out!" she shouted, but it was too late. The man had been struck several times by any number of entropic spells. None of them had been deadly, but at the sound of him hitting the floor, the templars erupted.

Solona grabbed hold of both hers and Anders' wrists and darted for the nearest exit, only pausing to cast a mind blast that knocked the templars trying to block her path out of the way so they could escape. "Well, that went poorly." She panted as they made it outside the College and back out into the morning sun. They kept running until they got to the Dragon's Den, pulling their hoods up and blending into the crowd of morning shoppers.

Back at the inn, they quickly packed their things and Hawke dredged up some old familar magic to make their staves a bit less conspicuous. Anders chafed as she handed him his shrunken staff, but stuffed it in his pack. "Its just until we can get out of the city," she promised him, stroking his cheek gently.

Solona led them from the city and toward a road that looked to follow the shoreline for miles to the west. She explained as they walked. "Leaving port on a boat will only get us recognized. We need to follow the road around the Waking Sea until we reach Val Royeaux where we can cross the Frostbacks back into Ferelden."

"We shouldn't travel the road," Anders suggested. "After whatever happens at the College happens, there will likely be templars looking for us."

"When aren't there templars looking for us?" Hawke asked, biting back another thick wave of nausea. They had just been getting back to some semblance of normal. Now they were running for their lives, again. On the other hand, she felt proud of the stir she had roused with her speech. She had reached some of those who had been teetering on the edge. Hopefully, it was enough. If a large enough portion of those mages were First Enchanters, they had the power to overturn their Circles. Like Anders had said. Now it was out of their hands.

 

They made camp that evening well away from the road and the fire they built they kept low to avoid being spotted. Hawke poked at her dinner, not feeling very hungry as she kept replaying the scene in the College. She was exhausted and after turning over the same bite with her spoon for the third time, she plopped the spoon into the unfinished bowl and set it beside her on the ground to stand and head for her bedroll. Dropping unceremoniously onto the ground, she pulled off her boots and unbuckled all of the sharp bits of her armor to toss them aside.

Anders joined her after a few minutes and sat down beside her, his hand landing on her back and rubbing slowly up and down. "All right, love?"

Hawke nodded. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

He nudged her onto her side, cuddling up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist. He kissed the back of her head softly and said, "I'm proud of how you stood up to the Conclave today. That was amazing."

"My stomach is still in knots," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"I thought you were brilliant," he assured her.

"Oh, good, my husband believes in me," she joked hollowly.

He grunted and his hand lifted to turn her chin so she could look at him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He was right. She didn't feel herself. Her mood was all over the charts and since when did nerves make her nauseous? "I... don't know," she said softly, shaking his hand away so she didn't have to look at him as she huddled deeper into his arms. "I'll let you know in the morning. I think I'm just tired and worked up. Today was a big step." Anders allowed her to drop the subject, pulling her more tightly against him.

 

The next morning, Hawke woke feeling no better for the night of sleep. When she shifted, Anders' arms still holding her, a sharp wave of nausea had her ripping herself from his cocoon of warmth and rushing to drop to her knees near the edge of camp and lose what little bit of breakfast and dinner she had in her stomach from the previous day. He was at her side instantly, one hand on her back and the other gripping her arm lightly. When she'd finished retching, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, trying not to think about what had just happened lest it bring forth a fresh wave of heaving. "You remember when I said I would let you know in the morning if I was all right?" She opened her eyes and glanced at him with what she knew was a pathetic look. "I'm not all right."

He smiled warmly at her. "I can see that," he said. "But luckily your husband is a fantastic healer." He stood and drew her to her feet and away from her mess to sit her down near the fire. "Give me your hands, love." She placed her hands in his and he offered her one more smile before he closed his eyes and she felt his mana swirling out from his core to greet her. His magic probed her for the source of what was causing her discomfort. After a few moments, a frown formed on his brow and his eyes opened to study her curiously. Solona had woken and moved to sit across from them, watching the exchange with interest. His honey eyes drifted to her as if he were working something out and his frown deepened. His eyes then snapped back to Hawke and his hands squeezed hers gently. "Have you been neglecting your herbs?"

Hawke frowned, wondering what he meant, and then it dawned on her. "No." She shook her head rapidly and the movement turned her stomach again. She must have gone green because a sweep of his magic calmed her rolling insides before they decided to come outside.

His puzzled frown loosened a bit and he smirked knowingly at her. "That's not what your body is telling me."

"Anders, I swear. It's like a religion," Hawke insisted, her hands beginning to tremble and her heart fluttering. "Every day."

"Well, if you're certain..." He took a deep breath and squeezed her shaking hands again before his magic washed over her once more. A few more moments passed as he probed her again and finally, a tentatively excited chuckle slipped from his mouth before he opened his eyes again. "It's not a mistake, love." His thumbs were rubbing gently across the skin of her knuckles, his eyes gauging her reaction.

"Impossible... but you said... and I've been... well, shit... I suppose I should stop taking those herbs," she said her mind racing with the question of how.

He chuckled again, nodding his head, "That is highly recommended."

"Pardon the interruption, but while I am fluent in Alistair flustered, I don't speak Hawke flustered. What's going on?" Solona asked with a raised brow.

"I'm pregnant," Hawke said, her voice trailing off as the words sounded strange rolling off her tongue.

Solona drew back, her own frown forming. "But Wardens are basically sterile... how?"

Anders glanced sheepishly at Solona. "Under my circumstances, the taint has been altered just a little bit. Justice..."

Solona pressed her lips together in thought. Hawke snickered. "Apparently that 'just a little bit' was enough to 'oops' a baby into me even while I'm taking preventative herbs."

Anders' excited smile was beginning to fade slightly as his mind likely began to race a mile a minute and he started to worry. "We'll need to keep a careful watch over this," he said slowly. "What if...?" he sighed and locked eyes with Hawke. "What if this is our only chance and... what about the taint?"

Hawke squeezed his hands still in hers. "You need to shut off the logical part of your brain for just a little while and listen to what I'm saying..." She slowly moved her lips, enunciating every syllable clearly and speaking loudly. "We are having a baby." Then a wide, encouraging grin spread across her face.

His jaw hung open for a moment before his own smile returned. "Maker's breath," he whispered before pulling her into a tight hug, his body shuddering against her. "Never in a million years..."

Once he pulled away, Hawke dragged her gaze from him to glance at Solona. "I think we have an answer for Alistair about his offer to help us lay low."

Solona smiled sweetly. "Of course. I'll send a raven from the next town we pass and he can get everything ready as soon as possible."

 

As they took the long way around to Ferelden from Nevarra that dragged them through endless woods and mountains, Hawke got to see more of Orlais than she really wished to. Anders fussed daily when they would settle down for the evening to camp, subtly tossing magic her way and keeping a nervous watch on her. It was endearing for the first few weeks until they made it through Val Royeaux and into Halamshiral. They were getting closer to the point of their journey where they would need to buckle down and find a passage through the Frostbacks. It would be a treacherous journey on foot in the summer months when the mountains were prone to avalanches due to the melting of the snow below the peaks.

Hawke crossed her arms as she glared at her husband arguing that they should wait until the thaw ended. "It's better to go now," she insisted. "We don't have the luxury of waiting... Or would you prefer if we waited until I had to waddle through the mountain pass? That would be much safer."

Her sarcasm was not lost on him and he grunted. "Maybe we shouldn't cross at all."

"I'm not staying in Orlais," she returned.

Solona was hovering awkwardly a safe distance away as Hawke got so frustrated, lightning sparked at her fingertips. "Amell!" Anders pleaded. "Tell her she's being nuts."

Solona held up her palms and backed even further away. "I'm along for the ride, but..." she looked regretfully at Anders. "I agree with Hawke. The sooner we get this over with, the better for everyone."

Anders looked between the two of them and Hawke lifted her brows. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he conceded with a bitter chuckle. "Betrayal, Amell... betrayal."

"We'll keep slightly south where the cold lingers longer," Hawke said, triumphantly shouldering her pack and starting off down the road heading east.

After all of the fuss he had caused, the week they spent picking their way through the mountains was uneventful. Anders seemed to calm down and their journey continued. By the time they reached Lake Calenhad, Cumberland was five weeks past. News had spread about the uproar that had happened at the College. Several mages had been arrested, Grand Enchanter Fiona included, but they had all been subsequently released, not having done anything to merit imprisonment. Word was there was to be another meeting at Andoral's Reach where Fiona was gathering the mages.

Solona had received a raven before they hit the mountains that told her that Alistair had arranged for a newlywed couple to purchase some land near Honnleath. They all traveled together back to the Capitol where Hawke and Anders gathered the furrier members of their growing family and bid Solona and Alistair farewell as they set off together toward Honnleath and their new home.

Two more weeks on the road had them all exhausted, except for Pounce who had taken to riding Alfie around like his own personal horse when he wasn't wrapped around Anders' neck. Alfie loved the attention, strutting along importantly as if he were proud to be receiving attention from the aloof feline.

They passed into the village square and Hawke was immediately reminded of the village that she grew up in as a child. Their money was going to stand out in a small place like this. They had changed in Denerim from their armor to look a bit more like a simple newlywed couple as Alistair had described them. To make a better impression on the new neighbors, Hawke had miraculously convinced Anders to allow her to shrink their staves again and hide them in their packs until they were settled in their home. Some of the villagers paused to stare, but most were familiar with strangers passing through and went about their days with no more than a short glance. The mayor's house stood at the top of the square, raised above the rest. In the front of the house, a girl of around 16 with long blonde hair sat talking with a boy around the same age. She giggled and twirled her hair as Hawke and Anders approached. When she saw them nearing, she looked up from the boy, her face flushing a bit before she spotted Pounce atop Alfie's back. "Oh, what an adorable kitty." The boy was all but forgotten as she stood and moved to stroke Pounce's back. "You must be Lord and Lady Ember. Papa said we should be expecting you soon. He's inside. I'm Amalia."

Hawke immediately realized why Alistair had chosen this particular village. She could feel the magic in the ground around her. As she followed the girl into the mayor's house, she also felt a protective barrier slide over her skin. So the mayor was a mage as well. A small smile crept over Anders' face as the realization hit him as well and he took her hand. They were greeted by a simple looking man, who smiled widely. "Ah, Lord and Lady Ember," he said with a small wink, holding out his hand and shaking both of theirs. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Matthias, mayor of Honnleath. Thank you, Amalia, you may go."

The girl smiled and curtsied and headed back out into the afternoon sun. "I can't help but notice the, uh..." Hawke gestured around the room.

"The magic?" he chuckled. "Yes, it's why King Alistair chose our village to help shelter the Champion of Kirkwall. We are out of the way and... sympathetic." He shrugged. "We owe him and his mistress a favor. During the Blight, she saved my daughter from possession. Now, I'm sure you're all road weary, so let me show you to your new home and you can settle in."

He pulled a set of keys from a drawer behind his desk and led them back outside. The house was a short distance from the main center of the village, tucked in at the edge of the woods. She watched Anders take note of a small herb garden before he moved a step up to walk beside Matthias. "Does Honnleath have a healer on hand?"

Matthias sighed. "Sadly that is something we have been lacking for some time. There are a few mundanes with a bit of talent for herbs and tonics, but it barely makes up for having a proper healer."

"Well, you're in luck," Hawke said with a smirk. "Lord _Ember_ is the best spirit healer I've ever met."

"I'd be more than happy to set up a clinic if you don't mind," Anders offered immediately.

Matthias smiled. "It's nice to have nobility come around and be useful for a change."

"That's us... useful as they come," Hawke chuckled. "Normally, I'd be muscle and magic for hire, but I'm..." she patted her stomach. "out of commission for the next few months. I do know a bit of healing myself, so I'll probably be lending a hand when it's needed."

Matthias grinned. "I see. No trouble. We are a small village but I'm certain you will find something to keep you busy... Here we are." He handed the key to Anders and spread his arms to encompass the house. "It's been empty for some time, but I went in and cleaned it up myself when I got word from the capitol. You may still wish to crack a window or two and let some fresh air in. Enjoy... and if there is anything you need, you know where I live. I'll see about getting you a space in the village for your clinic."

"Thank you, Matthias," Hawke said with a smile. "We really appreciate it."

Before he walked off, Matthias turned and paused. "I'm certain you don't wish to go by some made up name..."

Hawke chuckled and Anders shook his head. "Hawke is not much safer. Too many people know my surname, even in Ferelden. But Marian is safe."

"Finn," Anders said softly, clutching the key in his hand and swallowing.

"Well, Finn... Marian... welcome to Honnleath," he smiled and then continued off back toward the village proper.

"Finn?" Hawke asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He cringed. "I've not gone by that name in twenty years. It was the name my mother gave me."

She pulled him in to her and hugged him close. "Let's go inside and see just how stale the air is in our new home."

He kissed the top of her head and released her from the hug. He was smiling again when he backed away and headed for the door. "I'm really glad we won't have to hide here."

"I'll admit I was concerned, but Matthias seems like good people," Hawke agreed. "I think we can be happy here, even if it's not forever." Anders opened the door and they both attempted to cross the threshold at the same time and got wedged in the door. They both snorted and backed onto the stoop. "One at a time?"

"I have a better idea," Anders grinned and swept her into his arms, making her giggle as he turned to the side and dipped inside carrying her through the door.

Alfie bounded around their legs as Anders gently set her back on her feet and started barking excitedly. Pounce passed by slowly, sniffing curiously after regarding the excited canine with a flick of his tail. Hawke glanced around the dimly lit room, adjusting her eyes from the sun outside. The room was modestly furnished, all of the seating and surfaces sporting a thin layer of dust that had re-accumulated since Matthias had been there. Hawke sneezed, and was reminded of her first entry into her estate with Fenris. She moved across the room and pulled the curtains aside throwing open a few windows and letting light and air into the house. The walls were bare, but there were lengths of twine that lined the ceiling above the fireplace for drying herbs. The hearth itself served as both warmth and a place for cooking. The kitchen had a small room adjoining it that would serve as the larder. A narrow set of stairs stood off the the side, nearly hidden in the back corner of the house. Hawke moved to explore, calling a small bit of mana to her palm to light her way up the turn in the stairs. The three rooms upstairs were spacious, one with a tub set to the corner that had a narrow drainage pipe that would allow the water to flow outside when you pulled the plug, and a window that when glanced out dropped down into an unused compost shed.

"Brilliant," Anders said as he moved up behind Hawke to glance out the window as well. Nearby stood a rudimentary seat with a chamber pot housed beneath it and a hole cut in the top.

"Ingenuity at it's finest," Hawke agreed. "Well, let's get started, shall we?"

She was eager to get the house cleared up and turn it into theirs. She trotted back downstairs and surveyed the furniture more closely. Anders chuckled as he joined her. "We may need a trip to the village to pick up some supplies."

"You may be right. Let's leave it open to air out and head over and meet the neighbors."

 

Hawke and Anders spent what was left of the day moving in and out of the small specialty shops in the village and making nice with the keepers and their families. Hawke knew the ins and outs of small village life and was surprised to see that Anders, although rusty, had his own expertise.

They made their way back to the house before evening and Hawke set to work dusting out the cobwebs while Anders got started on dinner. Hawke was admittedly a terrible cook, but she was eager to learn and watched Anders as he moved flawlessly through the kitchen. The meal he prepared was packed with lightly cooked vegetables and a perfectly seasoned slab of ram meat. "Don't say I never gave you anything," Hawke chuckled as she tossed a small piece of the meat to Alfie who caught it in his mouth and sat down to wag his butt beside her chair, looking for more.

"I was thinking tomorrow I could head out to the garden and sort out the weed situation and see what sort of herbs we have already," Anders said spearing a bit of carrot on his fork. "There is also a dwarf in the city who does enchanting. I was hoping to have another ice box made."

Hawke yawned before taking another bite of her dinner. "You're so enthusiastic. Where does all of this energy come from?"

He chuckled. "It's a completely normal amount of energy. You're just worn out because you're growing a person." Pounce, who had been standing on his hind legs with his paws on Anders' thigh finally grew annoyed at being ignored and hopped up on to the table in an attempt to steal from Anders' plate. Anders casually scooped the cat up, causing him to mew in frustration as he was plopped back to the floor. "You get none until you can behave," Anders scolded. "Amell has completely neglected your table manners."

Pounce turned and flicked his tail before conceding defeat and moving to perch himself in one of the windows to catch the last rays of the setting sun. "I discovered something while I was cleaning," Hawke announced proudly, lifting her hand with a flourish. She called a small amount of mana and the room illuminated with mage light from several discreet sconces set around the walls. "From the herb garden outside, the interesting ingenuity in the bathroom, and the empty built in bookshelves, I am guessing this place belonged to a mage." She picked up her fork and dug back into her meal. She was determined to get through it in spite of the rolling happening in her gut. It was their first homemade meal in their new home and she refused to ruin it by expelling it into the grass outside.

When they finished their meal, she helped him clean up and then they headed upstairs to inspect the bedroom. Like the living area, it was sparsely furnished. The bed had a soft down mattress however and was wide enough for the two of them to sleep comfortably with some space to spare. They had purchased fresh linens in town and Anders helped her tuck the sheets around the mattress. Hawke tested out the magic in the room and three small mage lights flickered on. Anders came around the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind, fluttering gentle kisses on her neck. "Would you be up for christening our new bed? If you're too tired, I understand," he whispered in her ear, causing goosebumps to rise along her neck.

She turned in his arms and pressed herself against him, her fingers slipping up into his hair. "It has been far too long," she breathed, as his hands took advantage of her agreeable attitude, slipping up under her tunic and over her back.

They fell onto the bed, clothing disappearing in a rush. Anders got a look at Hawke's body for the first time in several weeks and he smiled gently, his hand slipping up over the ever so slight hump that was forming on her lower abdomen. "Sometimes I still can't believe this is real," he sighed, leaning in to plant a deep kiss on her lips, his thumb lightly running over the skin of her stomach.

"It's easy to forget sometimes," she agreed, her hand joining his. "Although I'm sure that pretty soon he or she will make it quite difficult to miss their presence." She smiled at him. "But for right now, we are alone in our new home, and I think it's time we reenact how this little miracle happened in the first place." She pushed him onto his back and lifted her leg over him to straddle his hips.

 

It wasn't long before Matthias made good on his word and set Anders up with a clinic in town. He was never very busy, but he came home each day with a smile on his face. Hawke spent most days with little to do beyond trying to teach herself how to cook. She would take Alfie out for a stroll everyday around noon, just to get out of the house. Sometimes, Pounce would follow, slowly warming up to Hawke enough that he deigned her shoulder worthy of perching on as they set up little walking trails through the woods.

It was a simple life, and Hawke found herself smiling more often than not, even as she wrote letters to her friends, who she missed terribly. One day a month and a week into their stay, when Anders came home, Hawke greeted him as usual with a kiss and he bent to kiss her now more obviously protruding belly. "I've started to feel some fluttering," she announced with a grin.

He smiled and slipped a hand over her stomach, the familiar feeling of his probing magic sliding over her as he spoke around the grin. "Right on schedule."

"It's odd... like drunken butterflies flitting around in there," she described and he removed his hand and kissed her cheek to move past her to the kitchen.

"I see you've been trying to cook again," he chuckled, holding up a lightly scorched pan where she had attempted to fry some eggs.

"At least I'm not a quitter," she said with a shrug flopping into her favorite armchair and propping her feet up on the ottoman in front of it. She folded her hands over her belly.

"I sort of wish you were," he teased as he picked at the scorch marks on the pan with a fingernail. "Sandwiches for dinner?"

"Oh, you spoil me," she teased in return.

He went about preparing the simple meal and then glided over to hand her a plate, kissing her head before dropping down across from her in his own chair, his feet sharing her ottoman. She mindlessly followed the routine of plucking small pieces from the meat of her sandwich and sharing with both Alfie and Pounce who had realized that she was the one to go to if he wished for scraps. "You're as bad as Amell," he said with a snort as Pounce hopped onto the arm of her chair and then made himself comfortable atop her belly.

She indicated the lounging cat and laughed, jostling him momentarily. "I can't help if I'm squishier. Speaking of Amell, I've not heard from Solona in weeks. I've gotten responses from everyone else, but her. Should I be concerned?"

Anders shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much. If she's out doing something for the Wardens, she might not be able to respond. How are the others?"

"I've not given specifics about our location or anything else," she flapped a hand over her person. "Varric and Aveline are holding Kirkwall together as best they can with Cullen's help. Surprisingly, he has kept the templars strictly to restoring order and not hunting down the mages that fled. Merrill has been drifting from alienage to alienage, helping the elves out. Isabela is off near Antiva, helping Zev with his issues with the crows, and Fenris has made his way north to wreak havoc along the roads most heavily traveled by slavers."

Anders looked at her in shock. "You've not told them the news? Not even Varric?"

She sighed. "I was tempted, believe me, but the fewer people who know, the safer I feel. I'll let him know once it can be done without fear of being intercepted."

They were quiet for a few moments, both of them picking at their meals. "I'm sorry," Anders said softly.

"For?" she asked, raising her brows and her eyes to him.

"Taking you away from your home, and the people you love..." he answered dramatically.

Hawke reached over and set her plate on one of the short tables set up beside their chairs. Shooing Pounce, she stood and padded over to him, kneeling beside his chair and taking his plate as well. " _We_ left together. It was the smart thing to do. Once everything gets decided one way or another, we'll see them again." She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. "I'm happy here. We've built something good."

He glanced at her, his hair falling over his face as he tipped his head to where she was on the floor. An easy smile spread across his face and he said, "I love you."

She returned his smile and stood, placing hands on his shoulders to lean him back in the seat and climb into his lap. Leaving room for her belly, she leaned in and kissed him. "Prove it," she joked.

 

At 30 weeks along, the drunken tumbling butterflies in her stomach had turned into an all out bar rumble whenever the baby felt like making itself known. Her jaunts into the woods with Alfie and Pounce had shortened as she became winded much more quickly since her lungs were sharing a body cavity with her still widening uterus. Anders was becoming more anxious, almost to the point of annoyance as he ran brief little tests each morning to be certain there were no signs of the taint as their child grew. Eight weeks prior during one of his tests, he had smirked at her and said he knew the gender, but Hawke threw a hand over his mouth, making him laugh around her muffling fingers. She wanted to be surprised. He had conceded and pulled her hand from his mouth to kiss her knuckles. Wanting to be surprised didn't stop her intuition from nudging her to her own conclusion. When she had begun to talk to her child when she was alone, she defaulted to male pronouns.

She was standing in the second bedroom, her arms crossed under her breasts and resting on her low carried protrusion as she watched her husband doing something else that she had not known he was capable of doing. He had carved and built an entire cot with matching furniture, slowly over the last three months. She was watching him carefully painting baby animals into the woodwork. "Don't forget to add dragons," she said with a smirk, her arms untwining so her hand could run absently over her belly as the baby shifted. "Everyone should have dragons in their nursery."

He paused and frowned, looking at his work. "I'll do my best," he said cheerily, dipping his brush into a small cup of water to rinse the color off.

"Come here," she said reaching a hand out to him, seizing the break in his work. She pulled his hand over as he placed it in hers and replaced the one she had resting where the baby was kicking. He smiled as he cupped the spot, the baby jerking wildly to ram what felt like an elbow into it's father's palm.

"Energetic little bugger," he chuckled.

"You have no idea," she joked. "This is nothing. Mini Hawke seems to think the middle of the night is party time."

"Not sleeping well?" he asked, the casual smile never leaving his lips as his hand rubbed over her stomach.

She shrugged. "It comes with the territory, I'm told. I'm grateful for every bit of the experience. I never thought we'd have this."

He pulled her into his arms, stepping behind her so he could still keep his hands on their baby as they surveyed his work so far, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Nothing ceases to amaze me when it comes to you, love."

 

Hawke had rearranged the furniture in every room in the house for the fourth time that week. Then she had taken all of the nappies and little baby clothes and folded and re-folded them twice. When she had nothing else to do, her hands fidgeted, so she took her staff and left the house in the warm summer air. Breathing in deeply, she checked on the garden, but there were no fresh weeds to pluck since that morning when she'd painstakingly gotten down on her knees to tend the flourishing growth. Her time was near. She could feel it in the lessening of somersaults in her womb as the baby settled into position low in her core.

She made her way from the path up to their stoop and toward town. Anders' clinic had been set up at the bottom of the hill near the apothecary. She sidled down the cobbled street, smiling and waving at the now familiar faces of the townsfolk. She and Anders had been accepted quickly in spite of the unusual circumstances in which they had arrived. There were several other mages in the town besides Matthias and Hawke found it fulfilling to attend the semi regular meetings and discuss magic without the threat of the templars looming from every corner. With all of their minds put together they were finding easier ways to run their little town for the betterment of everyone there, and the mundanes accepted their ideas happily.

"Marian!" Mrs. Figg scolded from her yard where she was out beating a rug. She shook her paddle at Hawke. "What are you doing wandering alone? You look ready to burst, dear."

Hawke patted her belly and chuckled. "Finn says any day now," she agreed. "but the exercise is good. So is the fresh air."

Mrs.Figg pursed her lips but smiled discreetly. "If the healer says it's okay, who am I to disagree? You be careful now."

Hawke continued on to the clinic, pushing open the door slowly to poke her head in. Anders was bottling some fresh potions, the smell of elfroot strong in the air. "Am I interrupting?" she asked, drawing his attention as she set her staff against the door beside his.

He turned to grace her with a smile that quickly faded. "You walked all of the way down here? Is everything all right?"

"Flew, actually," she joked, perusing some of the bottles he had lined up along the shelves. She straightened. "I was bored... I ran out of chores after I weeded the garden, rearranged the furniture, and sorted all of the baby's clothes."

His eyes widened. "You... rearranged the furniture?"

"Possibly? After the fourth time it's sort of all back where it started," she said dismissively. He fumbled with a few of the potions in his hands before setting them down carefully and sighing.

"Hawke, you shouldn't be..." he started, but she waved him off.

"I know. I know... Did you need any help today?" she wondered.

He glanced around at the empty clinic and one of his brows rose. "It's been really quiet all day..." he paused and regarded her. "How about I close up and we take a walk. Then I'll make some dinner while you relax?"

"As long as I have something to distract me from this ceaseless boredom," she sighed, rolling her eyes and arching her back around her palms until it gave a soft pop.

"I can also help with that later tonight," he offered, wiggling his fingers as he checked to be certain he had put out the fire where he had been steeping herbs and then approached her to lay a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"How did I get so lucky?" she mused, as he passed her staff to her and picked up his own.

Their afternoon was uneventful as they strolled, first, through town where Anders picked up a few things for dinner and then headed back up the hill toward their home to sit for a bit in the sun enjoying each other's company before heading in to eat.

After eating, he brought her upstairs where he drew her a warm bath. From outside the tub, his arms slipped into the water, rubbing over her back as he poured soothing magic into her muscles. "You are working miracles," she hummed, leaning as far forward as she could, her belly going between her legs to touch the bottom of the tub. "This experience is wonderful, but I'm ready for it to be over."

He hummed as his fingers kneaded at her lower back and up toward her her shoulder blades before dipping back down. "It shouldn't be long, now," he said. "If you're as antsy as you say, you've reached the nesting stage."

"And how long does that usually last?" she asked desperately.

He shrugged, his hands faltering only for a second. "It's different for everyone. A day... a week... two weeks?"

She groaned and dipped her face into the water briefly before lifting it back up. "That's too long. I can't wait that long..."

He chuckled. "The baby won't come before it's ready, love."

"Can't we... you know, do something? Encourage it to get ready?" she asked, turning her head toward him with a pout.

He smiled at her endearingly. "I suppose..." he slipped his hand around her stomach and gave a gentle squeeze, his magic flaring slightly. "The baby is oriented properly. It couldn't hurt to try a few of the wives tales..."

"I'll do anything," she agreed.

He chuckled again, patting the hand that she had grabbed his arm with, splashing water from the tub. "I'm not promising that any of this will work."

She shrugged. "Maybe not, but it will pass the time."

He stood and offered her a hand up from the tub and then handed her robe to her. "Well, you've already covered walking and exercise."

"What else is there?" she wondered, securing the robe around her.

He flicked his long fingers upwards as he listed her options. "Soaking in a tub with bath salts, drinking tea made from raspberry leaves..." as he continued, he smirked at her saucily. "nipple stimulation... sex..."

"You're making this up!" she accused.

"I'm completely serious," he assured her.

She shrugged and started for the bedroom with a laugh. "Well, let's go stimulate my nipples."

She oriented herself as comfortably on her back as she could, adjusting so her lungs weren't being pressed on and he laid down beside her. He kissed her shoulder, his arm reaching up to slip inside her robe. It didn't take much any more to work her body into a frenzy. He had barely gotten her robe undone before her heart was pounding. She gasped as his palm brushed lightly over her nipple before he cupped her breast and drew it toward his mouth, teasing the dark nub to attention with his tongue and then biting ever so gently. As he worked with his mouth, he moved his hand to the other breast and began to gently circle the aureole with his fingers.

Hawke found her own hand wandering, trailing down his chest and toward his breaches. He had kept himself under control, ready to make this about her until she slipped her hand inside his pants and making him inhale sharply and twitch against her palm. "Are you sure?" he asked, his lips still hovering over her nipple, the moisture of his breath drawing a ragged moan of desire from her throat. He knew how little sleep she had been getting and how lethargic she had been recently, her energy going toward the baby growing inside her.

"If your artful nipple stimulation does anything to speed this along, this may be our last chance for a while," she took hold of his growing erection and squeezed lightly. "I'm certain. Now, pants off."

After he obliged, she guided him to his back and climbed atop him, using the only position she could think of where her stomach wouldn't be in the way. She started slowly, winding her hips around in small circles to help him grow inside her from the abrupt start. When he began to help, moving with her, she closed her eyes and leaned back a little to adjust the angle as he bumped uncomfortably against her cervix.

They had always been able to take hours on each other, her body drawing to the brink several times before he would allow her the full pleasure. It was a game of teasing that made their lovemaking so unique to them. After trying for a good half an hour, Anders none the wiser, Hawke paused and sighed, dropping her palms onto his chest for a rest. All she was feeling was discomfort with the deeply penetrating angle and how low the baby was settled. "This isn't working," she groaned in frustration. His playing with her nipples had made her feel more arousal than what they were currently doing.

He reached up, cupping her face and reading the frustration in her eyes before smiling. "We can stop if you want..."

She shook her head, shifting her hips so he wasn't pressed against her so deeply. "No. I want this, I want you, but... urgh," she groaned, throwing her hands upwards and then dropping them. "Everything's... in the way."

He chuckled, making her flinch as the movement dug inside her again. "Might I make a suggestion?"

"If you have an idea to fix this, I'm all ears," she agreed.

"Off you go," he said, helping her to lift herself off of him and then sliding his legs free. He stood. "Let me take the reigns for a bit." He had her scoot to the edge of the bed, still on her knees, and then with a gentle palm to her shoulders, he pushed her forward onto all fours. He bit a lip, gripping one of her ass cheeks in his palm before dragging a finger along her opening and grazing her clitoris. She gasped as some of the familiar arousal of being with him returned when he touched her. He angled her hips, pushing her legs apart and then slipped himself back inside. "Better?" he hummed as he slowly began to stroke back and forth. She dipped her head and moaned into the pillow she had propped under her elbows. "I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled. While one hand remained on her hip, guiding her as he pushed deeper, careful not to bump against her, the other slid around, grazing against her skin and then dipping between her legs to play along her most arousing spot.

She felt the promised orgasm building as he artfully pressed all of her buttons in spite of them being in new places. "Maker," she groaned, the usual ebb and flow of their teasing washing through her. She gasped as she was robbed of her orgasm for the third time. "Andraste, don't stop."

When he finally brought them to fruition, filling her deep as her insides quivered, dripping with her orgasm, she cried out in ecstasy, her fingers digging into the sheets. She panted and he slipped away from her, guiding her to her side and flopping down beside her, both of them covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion in the summer heat. He reached over to her still sensitive body and gripped one of her breasts, making her shriek with laughter and roll away from him as best she could with her extra passenger. He laughed and followed her, wrapping his overly hot body around her and pulling her against him, an arm wrapping around her belly and knocking teasingly. "Ready to come out yet?" He shimmied down and pressed his ear to her stomach and received a kick to the face for his trouble. "I guess that's a no."

 

A week and a half later, it was nearing the first of Matrinalis and the heat of summer was sweltering. Anders had stored several wet rags in the icebox and he brought her one as she sat slumped in her armchair wearing as few clothes as was decent. He dropped it onto her exposed belly and she jerked and hissed, throwing the used one that had been absorbing the sweat from under her breasts in his direction. He easily caught the rag and laughed. "It will all be over soon, love."

She groaned, unfurling the cold rag and placing it dramatically over her face. "You've been promising that for two weeks," she complained through the fabric.

Just then, a cramping pressure seized lightly in her back and she shifted, pushing herself into a more upright position. At the movement, the cramp rolled around into her stomach and she flinched, her hand naturally reaching under her belly and cradling it to massage. Anders watched her curiously. "All right, love?"

"Maybe?" she said with uncertainty. As quickly as it had come, the sensation ended and she sat for a moment with bated breath. When nothing else happened, she slumped back into the chair. "Lovely..." she draped the towel back over her face.

A few hours later, she was feeling antsy again and she glanced over at Anders who was watching her from the corner of his eyes while reading a book. She dropped the now useless rag onto the nearby table and sat up with great effort. "Let's go for a walk. Not too far..." she added at the quirk of his brow. "I just can't sit here any more."

Moments later, her shirt had been pulled back down over her stomach and she was walking arm in arm with Anders out toward the woods. An enormous pressure was settled on her gut and every shift inside her womb made her flinch. She tried to ignore it and enjoy the walk, but they had barely made it to the tree line when an almost audible pop had her stopping in her tracks. Moisture dripped down from between her legs and she felt as if she could breathe again. The momentary bliss was interrupted by another wave of seized muscles as it rolled from her back and around her entire abdomen, doubling her over.

"Um..." she breathed, clutching to his arm as he supported her. "Anders, we're having a baby..."

 

Hawke was no stranger to the birthing process. Working in the clinic, she had become a regular midwife. Admittedly, nothing could prepare her for being on the other side of the bed. Anders was there, soothing her through every step. She spent most of the early stages pacing around the room and practicing her fingerwork for spells like she hadn't done in a very long time. It had been her default stress relief while she was growing up. After hours, the sun set outside and the cool night air was a welcome relief. With each contraction, she would pause her pacing, brace her palms on the closest surface and ride it out as it felt like an ogre as crushing her abdomen. Sometimes that surface happened to be Anders and he didn't fill the room with pointless coaching or motivational drivel. He simply allowed her to lean on him as the wave passed and then she would push away and resume her pacing. She had been through so many different levels of pain and they both knew that she was capable of stepping up and handling this new milestone.

As the contractions became increasingly more intense, she was forced to give up on her pacing, lest she be floored. It seemed to her that they were getting no closer together, however. She was still sitting up in a chair, not at all feeling the need to push when Anders cleared his throat. "Would you like me to check your progress, love?"

A fresh contraction coursed through her body and she curled in on herself, riding it out before taking a deep breath and nodding. She pushed out of her seat and he helped her sit gingerly on the bed, lying her back. He relieved her of her smallclothes and warned her before reaching up to feel how far the contractions had gotten them so far. She flinched away from his touch, the added pressure nearly making her press her thighs back together around his arm. He stilled and allowed her to adjust to the new sensation before diving back in. "How much longer are we talking about here?" she asked.

He looked up at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, love, but we've still got a ways to go. You aren't even half way there, yet." He reached over and brushed the hair that was sticking to her face out of her eyes.

"Okay," she said, accepting her fate and struggling to sit up. He helped her and she patted him thankfully as he also helped her to stand and get her smalls back into place. "I need to take my mind off of this... help me downstairs."

He crooked a brow but did as she asked, waiting for another contraction to pass as it hit her just before the top of the stairs. "What are we doing in the dining room?" he asked as she shuffled to the nearest chair at the table.

She sat gingerly, adjusting her rear before pointing to the books stacked on the shelves. "Inside the Compendium... There's a deck of cards."

He snorted as he plucked the false book from the shelves and opened it to drop the deck into his hands. "And you hollowed out a book to hide a deck of Wicked Grace cards, why?"

Her gut seized and she cringed, balling her fists. "I've been... teaching... Amalia how to bluff... while you're at the Clinic," she managed through gritted teeth, pounding the table with one of her fists and rattling the few cups that were still left there from earlier in the day. "Maker's balls... Bring those over here."

He reshelved the book and brought the cards to the table, sitting down across from her. "What are the stakes?"

"You win, we're having a boy... If I win, you take over and have the baby for me..." she joked as he shuffled the cards.

With a smirk, he dealt their hands. "Is that your official guess? Boy?" he wondered, laying the remaining cards between them.

"Am I right?" she asked, picking up her cards and trying to concentrate on sorting her suits.

"I suppose we'll see... Why ruin the surprise now when we're so close?" he taunted, his long fingers shifting his cards around in his hand.

"Prepare your loins to be ripped in two," she said with her own joking smile.

They played the hand as slowly as possible, Hawke reading Anders like a book in spite of the pain that kept nagging through her like a desperate suitor that wouldn't take no for an answer. When Hawke finally laid her cards down, Anders gaped. "I can't believe I just lost to a woman in labor." He chuckled. "You know, it's really difficult to read a person's tells while their face is twisted up in pain."

"So you're saying the next time I want to beat Varric, I need to stab myself first?" she asked as Anders gathered the cards.

"That just might work," Anders agreed with a chuckle as he obviously tried to ignore the cringing happening across the table as another contraction stole the breath from Hawke's lungs.

"This really isn't getting any easier," she admitted after she caught her breath.

"I have herbs for the pain," he offered tentatively in spite of an earlier conversation they had had weeks ago where she had decided against any sort of pain management.

She shook her head. "I don't want any of that. Although, I wouldn't say no to a massage. Everything seems to be happening around my lower back before it twists around to the front."

He hummed. "Instead of herbs, I've seen some women who found heaps of relief in a warm soak."

She thought for a moment. "Maybe in a few hours. In the meantime, deal another hand... please. The distraction helped."

For hours, he helped her to work through the pain by focusing her mind on something besides the baby trying to push it's way into the world. He must have been silently keeping track of her contractions because after he won his second hand in a row, he reached out his hand and took hers, squeezing gently. "I'd like to give another once over. They're getting closer together."

Hawke nodded and they waited a few minutes so another contraction could pass before he helped her back upstairs to the bed. Another invasive twirl of his fingers and he smiled. "Well?" she asked.

"Only a few centimeters left to go." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'll start hauling water up from the well if you still want that soak," he offered.

"I think I'm going to need it," she agreed, relieved to hear that the ordeal was nearly over.

After Anders filled the tub, he helped her in and she leaned back against the edge, letting the warm water soothe some of the ache that the hours of labor had set in to her core. "Better?" he asked, his land lying on her stomach and his magic brushing along her skin as he checked that everything was still going smoothly.

While she soaked, the contractions were building on top of each other and suddenly she knew what it meant to 'feel the urge to push'. She had been in the water only half an hour. "I think we're ready," she said.

"Sorry," Anders apologized as he approached and his arm dipped onto the water to poke around in her birth canal. "Where do you want to do this?"

"I have options?" she asked her stomach muscles one big cramp as she bit back the urge to bear down.

"There's the bed," he said, "But if we're quick, there are several benefits to a water birth."

"That's safe?" she asked through gritted teeth as her hands gripped the rim of the tub.

He chuckled. "The baby has been living in fluid from the day it was conceived. Being born into a familiar environment is less of a shock on it's system and can be beneficial for the mother as well. More relaxing..."

"Good," she said with her own strained chuckle. "Because I think if we moved me, it might just fall out onto the floor."

"All right, love. Get into a position that feels right. Listen to your body. You've been doing a very good job of that so far. And I don't think I need to tell you how to push..." It took a split second for her body to tell her to turn around. She shifted onto her knees, her upper body lifting from the water as she braced against the rim of the tub. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded as she waited for the next contraction. Anders' one hand reached down into the tub and his other was a comforting weight on her back.

As the contraction hit, she dipped her head downwards and her body curled around herself. She felt the pressure again as the birth canal was filled. "That's a crown," Anders said excitedly. "Just a few more..." She took comfort is his soothing voice and his hand running up and down her back. Another contraction and again, she gritted her teeth and pushed downwards with all her might. She reached her own hand down to feel that the head was out. An excited laugh bubbled from her lips as the last contraction had her purging her womb of the rest of the baby. A wordless cry escaped her throat in victory and then she started to sag and laugh in relief as Anders pulled the baby swiftly from the tub. She sat on her knees, the baby still attached to her by the cord as Anders handed the now squalling infant off to her. She took it gratefully, orienting the tiny flailing limbs and pressing her child to her chest. She was still shuddering with relieved and giddy laughter when Anders' content voice joined hers. "She's as beautiful as her mother."

"She?" Hawke asked, her voice shaky as she glanced down and noted that he was indeed correct. "But I carried so low..."

He chuckled. "We know from personal experience that wives tales aren't proof of anything. You two wait here... I hadn't expected this to happen in here. All of my supplies are in the bedroom... When I get back, we'll deal with the placenta."

"Good, more work for me," Hawke said in exhaustion.

"You did wonderfully, love..." He kissed her damp head and then left briefly to gather his things.

Their daughter calmed under Hawke's gentle palm on her back and soft humming while she waited for him to get back. She was a tiny thing for having been baking so long in Hawke's oven. Hawke found herself expending energy to run a health check on her as she rocked her gently. From what she could tell, she was perfectly healthy. "Look at her tiny toes," Hawke cooed deliriously when Anders walked in on the tail end of her magic and she gently lifted the baby's foot to wave it at Anders.

"You shouldn't be using up your energy," he scolded while smiling widely. He took the tiny girl from Hawke and with one hand, expertly snipped the cord, magically cauterized it closed and swaddled her tightly. Then he stood for a moment, glancing around as if at a loss and then chuckled to himself. "I'm used to having a third set of hands to take the baby while I deliver the placenta."

" 'Sokay," Hawke slurred, her exhaustion creeping up on her. She shifted her legs out from under her and as expertly as he had cut the cord and swaddled their daughter, she took hold of the other end of the cord no longer attached to the baby, massaged her aching ruin of stomach muscles and handled the task in front of her.

He snorted when she drooped her head back and gave him a thumbs up. "When midwives become mothers..." he mused.

"I need a towel and a hand into the nursery," she said, smiling at being done.

When she lifted her hand, his free arm gripped hers and she felt his magic caress over her skin, relieving the ache of her torn and bloodied bits. He helped her to stand and then when he was certain she wasn't going to topple over, handed her a towel. They shuffled together to the nursery where she sat down gingerly, his healing only able to do so much without a full examination. Not caring that she was making a mess of the towel and the wooden chair where she sat, she watched him run his own diagnostic on their daughter and then clean her up with a rag and basin of water. Then he wrapped her in a nappie and got a fresh blanket to swaddle her up in before handing her back to Hawke. "Will you be all right while I drain and refresh the tub?"

Hawke nodded. "I'll just sit here and bleed... It's what I'm good at."

He knew she was joking and kissed her head again before leaving to prepare her a proper bath for after the baby was settled and he had been able to handle working on her. As Hawke sat, cradling the baby against her chest and humming, the door creaked open and Pounce pushed his way in, sitting a good distance away and cocking his head curiously to get a good look at her and the baby. Hawke dropped the towel from over her chest and shifted the girl. After a short few moments, instinct kicked in and she began to root around, hunting for food. The latch was sloppy and Hawke popped her finger between her nipple and her daughter's mouth, breaking the suction and making a second attempt. Everything felt so natural and she was proud when the second attempt worked and she felt the immediate relief of her daughter pulling greedily at the milk.

She took the opportunity to get lost in memorizing every inch of her new daughter. As her eyelids, rimmed in a light dusting of blonde lashes, fluttered closed, Hawke managed to note that her irises had her sharp blue color with an inner ring of his honey brown. On top of her delicate head, there was a dusting of a light shade of red hair. Hawke counted ten fingers and ten tiny toes, marveling at how just ten months ago, she had not been thought possible, but now there was a fully formed miniature human cradled against her chest. It all still felt like a dream. Her face was not yet decipherable, but Hawke did notice that she had been lucky not to inherit the slightly too large nose that both her parents had.

When she glanced up, prying her eyes away from the wonder in her arms, Pounce had approached another few feet and was sitting stock still again. Alfie was in the doorway, his head low and his eyes wide and pathetic as if he had been scolded.

"It's just a baby," she said and both animals cocked their heads in a similar fashion. She rolled her eyes. "Like neither of you have seen a baby before... Maker's breath, she won't replace you."

Hawke leaned back in the chair and settled in to a quiet peace as her daughter sated herself and began to doze. When Anders returned, he smiled at her. "Everything okay?"

Hawke nodded. "The baby is fed, the animals are curious and I haven't dropped her yet."

Anders moved across the room and scooped their sleeping daughter from Hawke's arms to lay her gently in the cot which he had managed to paint tiny purple dragons on. "Now it's your turn." He knelt in front of her and spoke softly. "The placenta was fully intact when I fished it out, so there's no chance of infection due to pieces being left behind." He closed his eyes and his magic was a cooling wash over her aching body. He flipped through the normal diagnostics that he did after every birth and finished healing the small rips and tears that remained. He warmed his hands and pressed them over her stomach to relieve some of that ache and then shifted around to her back where she had experienced most of her labor pains. The relief was extraordinary and she sagged against him. He stood, taking her with him and then carried her into the tub again where she cleaned up and changed into her own 'I just gave birth and need to wear an adult diaper' nappie and a thin nightdress that barely felt like she was wearing anything.

He led her toward the bedroom, letting her lean against him and she paused outside the nursery, staring in disbelief at the life they had made together as she slept. He looked in as well, a smile on his face and his hand running up and down her scarred arm. "Bianca," she said softly.

He chuckled. "It's supposed to be bad luck to name a baby before it's a month old, you know."

She let out a soft snort. "She's our daughter. Her luck can't get much worse."

He hummed in agreement. "I suppose you're right. So, Bianca?" When she nodded and smiled, he squeezed her closer. "I think Varric would be honored."

 


	24. The Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's simple life is interrupted by an enormous rip in the Veil.

Bianca was growing far too quickly in Hawke's opinion. By the end of fall, she had become a smiling addict. Every time Hawke or Anders would enter the room, her big bright hazel eyes would swivel around with her head and her mouth would open wide to reveal a toothless grin. Anders was a born father, spending every minute he was at home down on the floor in the nursery playing with the stuffed cat that Hawke had given him and making her kick her little legs and grab for the cat. He was doing just that one afternoon when pair of ravens arrived on the windowsill. Hawke took the messages from their legs and fed them before shooing them off to sit and read over the letters. One was from the King, informing them that Solona was busy taking care of some personal business and he had no idea when she would be back, but she had given their names and the description of the red lyrium to Stroud as well as Varric's name so he might get a look at the shard that Varric kept. He said that when he heard from her, he would let them know.

The other note was from mustache himself. He was going to meet with Varric and look at the shard before heading to the Warden's largest Library in Weisshaupt to see if he could find answers there.

Last Hawke had heard, things were stirring among the Circles, more and more uprisings needing quashing than ever before. She was broken from her thoughts when she heard Anders coming down the stairs. "She's making her hungry face," he informed Hawke.

"Ooh, mommy time?" she asked as Bianca's eyes landed on her. She cooed softly as Hawke adjusted her beneath her breast and sat down to lift her tunic and offer access. Latching had become as natural as breathing after a few weeks of struggling which almost broke Hawke. Bianca had been a trooper through it all, never crying. She was the quietest baby Hawke had ever met, having given her and Anders heart attacks the first night after she had been born when they hadn't been woken to a baby's cries. They had rushed into the nursery, fearing the worst, but Bianca had simply been looking around, not really taking in anything, but not complaining either. Hawke remembered her sister being the same way, even as Carver kept the entire household awake with his squalling. "We got letters," she said, waving at the two bits of parchment she'd left on the table.

Anders moved to pick them up and scan through them both. He moved over to give Hawke a light kiss on her lips. "You see, I told you not to worry about Amell. She'll be fine."

"I wonder what she's doing?" Hawke mused as Bianca's eyes started to flutter closed. Hawke shifted her to gently stir her back to wakefulness so she could finish her lunch.

"We'll never know unless she decides to tell us... Wardens are funny with secrets," Anders said with a shrug.

 

Hawke had been in constant contact with Stroud since his first letter, bouncing ideas back and forth about what exactly red lyrium was and what it was capable of doing. One day, while she was expecting a letter from Stroud, she received one from Varric instead.

_Hawke,_

_As you know, I make it my business to know things I really shouldn't. I hope you and Blondie are sitting down because news just came in with a pack of seekers. Word is that the mages up in Andoral's Reach finally reached a decision. They've voted for independence and Circles all over Thedas are kicking the templars to the curb. As you might have guessed, this is not going well for either side of the fight. It's a good thing you left when you did. These Seekers are on the hunt. One in particular is none too gentle about finding you specifically. Don't worry, I've not tipped my hand. I had to send this letter through five different couriers so she didn't know I sent a thing. As far as she knows, I have no idea where you are or how to reach you. Stay safe Hawke. It doesn't sound pretty out there. Don't write back for a while... I don't know how long these Seekers will be in town, but it's best you disappear further than you already have._

_Varric_

"Anders!" Hawke shouted, making Bianca jolt her attention away from trying to reach Pounce as he sat just outside of reaching distance.

He came from the kitchen and Hawke handed him the letter. "What's this?" he read over it and his eyes widened and he smiled. "Maker's breath... can this be real?!"

She snorted. "Has Varric ever been wrong?"

Anders let out a joyous laugh and gripped her up, lifting her in a hug and spinning them around before setting her back down. Then as she allowed her own excitement to bubble over, he reached down and picked Bianca from the floor to raspberry her belly and make her let out a hiccupping baby laugh. "The mages are free," he said in the tone he reserved for when he was talking to his daughter.

"Da," Bianca babbled, reaching to grab his nose.

"Yes they are," he said, pushing his nose against her again and delivering another raspberry. When her squeals quieted, he tucked her to him and turned his attention back to Hawke. "This is because of _us_. _We_ did this."

Hawke smiled, stepping over to place her hand beside his on Bianca's back. "Now in a few years, we won't need to worry if she shows signs of magic. They can't take her from us."

"With her blood, I don't think that is an _if_ statement, Hawke," he said.

"You're probably right, but that doesn't matter now. She's safe...."

 

Bianca's development was ahead of schedule. When they celebrated her first birthday, she had already been walking for two months. She knew several words already, thanks to both Anders and Hawke's passion for reading to her. She would babble to both Pounce and Alfie before jetting after them yelling either 'kitkit' or 'woof'. Pounce would usually turn and give her a clawless bonk on the forehead to stop her in her tracks before darting off up the stairs and out of reach. She would simply shake her head, her feathery red hair flapping back and forth before she plopped onto her butt and started giggling madly.

Hawke was proud of her daughter, but she was concerned for her husband. Something was bothering him. She had noticed an increase in the Warden dreams that plagued his sleep. He had also been suffering from headaches on and off, and she had caught him more than once, loosing focus on whatever he was doing. When she brought it up, the color had drained from his face momentarily before he brushed it off and gave her a kiss to the forehead. Appeasement.

Anders had returned home from the clinic early one day and they were spending the afternoon outside on a patch of grass, sharing a picnic. Alfie was lying on his side, Bianca shamelessly draping herself over him and giggling as she played in his short fur. Pounce watched from Anders' side, giving Hawke a look that clearly expressed his opinion on the size of Alfie's brain. Suddenly, Pounce stood, his back arching as he looked up to the sky before hissing madly and darting toward the house. "What got his tail in a twist?" Anders wondered.

Hawke lifted her fingers as the air around them filled with a sudden electrical charge, making her skin tingle. "What in the void?" she wondered. She got up from her spot on the ground and looked around, Anders following her lead.

Out of nowhere, the current was sucked back from the air, taking Hawke's breath with it. Then a tremendously loud burst of sound drew their eyes to the sky as it erupted. The clouds and the sky parted leaving a swirling green hole. Hawke barely had a moment to register what had happened before fiery comets of green began to rain from the hole in the sky. She ducked down and snatched Bianca into her arms, cradling her to her chest. One of the rockets smashed to the ground in their neighbor's field. When the raining dirt cleared, there were flesh and blood demons walking the earth. Anders spun to face her and his eyes were not her husband's. The swirling blue was almost a shock after so long. His skin crackled and he roared at her in his booming voice. "Take the child inside!"

Hawke spun, whistling shrilly for Alfie to follow. The dog bounded after her and she ran into the house, setting Bianca down on the living room rug. "Alfie! Stay. Keep her safe!" she ordered, grabbing up both her and Anders' staves and dashing back out of the house, slamming the door closed behind her. She ran back to Anders' side, passing his staff to him as she readied her own. She had no idea what in the Maker's name was happening, but they needed to do something. The shouts of their more defenseless neighbors and the screams coming from the village were nothing new to Hawke's ears. She drowned them out, focusing on defeating the demons that seemed to be raining from the sky. "What is that?" she asked the nearest friendly spirit, pointing up at the swirling vortex.

Justice turned his attention to her briefly before going back to swinging Anders' staff with vigor. "It is a hole in the veil. The largest I've ever seen."

"How?" she gasped, more wondering aloud than expecting an answer. A few of the demons spotted her and she dipped into her core, calling a tempest to encircle the small group of interlopers.

"I have no answers for you." Justice said predictably. "If we can corral them away from the house, I can erect a barrier that will hold indefinitely. Anders and his family will be safe." As much as Hawke hated to even think about abandoning the villagers, she needed to protect her own. She helped Justice to remove the immediate threats around them and they fell back to the house. Hustling inside, Hawke ran to where Bianca was huddled up next to Alfie, her face hiding in his side. She picked up the terrified little girl and sat on the floor hugging her tightly as the barrier flew up around the house, sealing them inside. When Anders turned away from the door, Justice was fading, his skin returning to normal and his eyes their honey brown again.

He moved to join them, Bianca reaching for her 'dada' as he drew his legs up underneath him. He soothed her as he looked to Hawke. "What Justice did... That's not a permanent solution."

"Hopefully, it will keep us safe until someone figures out what in the void has happened to the veil." A sense of helplessness surged through Hawke's veins. "We have not come this far to let some insane hole in the sky ruin our lives."

 

Hawke and Anders took shifts keeping watch on the rift. For three days, nothing changed. She was beginning to give up hope when on the evening of the fourth day, a great blast of energy arched upwards from somewhere below the hole and another noisy pop sounded across the eerily quiet Honnleath. A wave of magic coarsed through the sky and the black center of the hole narrowed and the fiery comets ceased streaking downwards. Anders had felt the magic and joined her in the window where she was watching from. "Let's give it a few hours and see if it starts up again. Alfie is watching over Bianca. If it's truly finished, we'll go out and clear out any demons in the area."

"While we're waiting, I'm writing letters..." Hawke moved away from the window to sit down with a pile of parchment and scribble out letters to all of her friends. The world was falling apart and they were scattered to the wind.

 

Less than a week later, she received a letter from Varric.

_Hawke,_

_I'm not sure when you'll get this, but I'm sure you've noticed the Breach in the sky. That's what all of the important people are calling it anyhow. The explosion that caused it happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Let's just say, the temple is not looking so temple-like any more. I know that because I am currently in Haven, at the heart of this little disaster. That grumpy Seeker I told you about, Cassandra, took me into custody not long after my last letter to you and received a verbal retelling of my most famous book, 'The Tale of the Champion,' for her trouble. I'll send you a signed copy when things settle down. Anyway, after my... lengthy... interrogation, she dragged me here to Haven where the Divine had decided to host a Conclave and get the mages and templars to make nice and stop killing each other. The Conclave literally blew up in her face. I sure hope Blondie wasn't responsible this time. Ah, shit. Anyway, when the smoke cleared, there was a rift in the temple and out drops this mage with a fancy magical mark on her hand that can control the tears that have cropped up all over. Right now, it looks like she might be our best hope to make this all go away. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe._

_Varric_

 

More of the villagers had survived than Hawke had thought possible. She dedicated her time to helping to rebuild the town as best they could when there were random demons wandering in from the little rifts that unpredictably tore open the sky. She kept in touch as best she could with Varric and also received a troubling missive from Stroud that mentioned corruption in the Warden ranks. The last thing she needed was more corruption on top of the corruption that already ran through Anders' veins.

Varric's letters were surprisingly positive when he spoke about the woman who had been named the Herald of Andraste. He had apparently decided to stay in Haven and help out as the Inquisition got on it's feet. He was so close. Hawke wished she could tell him where she was, but that was not something you put into a letter.

Months after the appearance of the Breach, Varric sent a letter that made her blood boil.

_Hawke,_

_This is... how do I put this?... After Aurora closed the Breach, her efforts drew the attention of the one responsible. Remember that jaunt to the Deep Roads where Blondie went nuts and tried to kill us? Well, that asshole that you shattered into a million different pieces... he's back. Corypheus broke the world. I've been putting this off for too long. Wherever you are Hawke, we need you. Haven is gone. Buried under an avalanche that Aurora caused in an attempt to bury Corypheus and the dragon he pulled out of his ass to be precise, (and I'm really not exaggerating) but most of the Inquisition escaped. We've relocated to an old abandoned castle in the Frostbacks. Skyhold. Just ask around, everyone knows where we are. It'd be great to see you again._

_Varric_

 

"You can't be thinking about going!" Anders shouted angrily when Hawke explained Varric's letter.

"Anders, you know what kind of an influence Corypheus has over the Wardens. This might explain Stroud's last letter. I need to be in this fight. This is unfinished business. He's free because of _my_ blood," she explained as Bianca toddled up to her and wrapped her arms around her leg. She knelt and picked up the girl, her body automatically swaying as soon as her bottom landed on her hip. "I need to do this for our family and our future. Don't think I haven't noticed the headaches and the dreams..."

He flinched. "The Calling... I'm hearing it... Like a song you can't shake from your head."

"It's not the Calling. It's Corypheus. We've fought him before. Anything I can do to help..." She handed Bianca over to him, leaning in to kiss her flaming red hair lightly. "You need to look after her. Keep her safe while I'm gone. I promise I'll come back."

Anders sadly conceded defeat, helping Hawke pack. She dug her armor from a trunk in their bedroom where she had stored it after they'd moved in and slipped into it. She settled into the old familiar weight and pulled her hood up. She would be traveling alone and no one needed to know who she was. When she got back downstairs, Anders handed her pack to her and pulled her into a deep kiss. "I intend to hold you to your promise."

She grazed her thumb over his cheek before kneeling in front of Bianca and pulling her close. "Now, I need you to be good for daddy while I'm gone. And you treat Alfie and Pounce nicely, okay?" Bianca nodded silently, then she held out a pudgy little hand that she clutched her second favorite stuffed toy in. Hawke smiled sweetly, a tear escaping her eye.

"Keep," Bianca said, shoving the toy at Hawke.

Hawke took it and tucked it securely in her belt. "When I come home, I'll bring him back for you," she promised, stroking a hand through her daughter's hair before hugging and kissing her one last time.

 

Once she left Honnleath, Skyhold was not far. About a day's journey if you had a horse. It took Hawke three days. She was not the only one arriving at the fortress and it was easy for her to blend into the crowds and slip inside unnoticed. The atmosphere of the mountains all but disappeared as she crossed through the gates and into the courtyard. Old magic swirled all around, humming over her skin. A makeshift infirmary had been set up near the entrance and there were bits of scaffolding going up all around to repair the almost crumbling facade of the Keep proper.

It was nearly impossible to find Varric in the sea of people that milled around. It seemed like everyone was gathering for something that was happening up on a tall set of stairs that stood over the lower courtyard. Hawke was too busy adjusting to the magic of the place and looking for Varric until she heard a loud Nevarran accent carrying over the assembled crowd. "Have our people been told?" Her attention was drawn up to where the woman was shouting from. Beside her stood a young woman with white blonde hair, holding a sword and looking a little bit dumbfounded. On her other side stood a familiar face. Sister Leliana.

Hawke looked down at the assembled crowd where another woman responded, her dark skin and accent marking her as Antivan. "They have! And soon, the world!"

The Neverran woman with the short black hair responded again. "Commander, will they follow?"

Above the growing anxious hum of the crowd, a familiar voice rang out. "Inquisition, will you follow?" Cullen paced among the crowd as they gave a resounding shout. "Will you fight?" he demanded and again the crowd shouted. The rest of his speech was drowned out as Hawke spotted Varric finally, standing off to the side and looking about as inspired as the rest of the crowd. He looked good in spite of his nose being a little more crooked than she remembered.

She edged closer and nudged him, cocking her head at the assembled crowd as the newly appointed Inquisitor raised her heavy sword into the air and rallied the people. "Never thought I'd see the day when someone put a mage in charge of a Chantry organization."

Varric glanced up at her and for a moment all she read on his face was shock. "Holy shit! You came!" His eyes studied her as if he wasn't certain he was truly seeing her in front of him. "Let's uh... Let's get you away from prying eyes." He took her elbow and led her off toward the upper courtyard through the crowd. They climbed the battlements and found a secluded spot to greet each other properly. "Maker's breath, Hawke, it's good to see you. You look good, but... different. Where's Blondie?" His eyes landed on the stuffed toy dangling from her belt and he closed his mouth, waiting for her to speak.

She shrugged lightly. "Someone had to stay home and look after Bianca. We couldn't exactly leave a toddler to fend for herself, now could we?"

His jaw dropped. "You named her Bianca?" he asked, skimming over all of the questions she would have thought he might ask.

Hawke pursed her lips. "Of course I did."

After a moment to allow the shock to wear off, he chuckled. "Does that make me the first to know she even exists?"

"My cousin was there when we discovered she might exist, but after the actual fact, yes, you are the first to know. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't think that was something that should be put in a letter."

"It's probably best you didn't," he agreed. "Listen, I think you should meet with Aurora. I'll go find her and her squad of advisers. You... stay put. Until everyone has been properly warned, it might be hazardous to my health if you're seen," he said with a chuckle.

Hawke made herself comfortable while she waited. As she sat on the battlements, looking out over the endless view of mountain peaks, a young blonde boy wandered into her space. He was thin and gangly in patchwork leathers and a ridiculous hat with a brim wider than him sitting atop his head. Strands of his hair fell over his eyes and he looked curiously at her through them. "You have two different names, but one of them doesn't fit," he said as if struggling to choose his words. Then he looked away from her and spoke in a sing song tone. "Honey sees into your soul, but the blue washes it away like the receding tide. Protect her while I'm gone." his eyes flicked back to her and he smiled briefly. "She makes him more himself." Before Hawke could respond, the boy was gone. She shook her head, a feeling of reassurance washing over her.

Varric returned not long after with a bottle of whiskey. "Her inquisitorialness should be by whenever she get's a moment to take a breath."

He passed the bottle to her and she took a grateful gulp, the alcohol leaving a warm trail all of the way down her chest. "So you mentioned Cullen was part of this, but to see it... That's a different story. He looks..." she shook her head, unable to pinpoint the words that might describe how it was to see Cullen out of the shadow of the templars and doing something good. "He's come a long way."

Varric chuckled taking his own swig of the bottle. "Wait until you see him interact with Aurora... Complete nervous mess. Absolutely smitten. It's adorable... and awkward."

"Hold on... you're telling me that 'Ser mages aren't people Rutherford', is making eyes at a mage?" she asked in disbelief.

Varric snorted. "I'm not even sure he knows he's doing it. In any case, neither of them has any clue. She's almost as awkward as he is." He took one more sip before handing the bottle back to Hawke. "So, how old is she?"

"She'll be two at the end of Solace," Hawke said with a sigh taking another swig.

He let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Here I was thinking you were on the move, fighting in this Maker forsaken war... You're ruining my sequel book." She chuckled in response. "Where have you been hiding anyway."

"Anders and I have a house in Honnleath," she explained.

"So that's how you got here so fast," he said with a nod. Before their conversation could progress, the young woman who had been named Inquisitor approached almost bashfully. Varric stepped in, making introductions. "Ah! Inquisitor!" Hawke noted the quick up and down flick of the woman's gray eyes as Hawke turned to set her default amused grin on her, making her own silent tour of her person while Varric spoke. She couldn't help her eyes being drawn to the glowing green hue of the mark on her hand that could close rifts in the veil when she lifted it to brush some of her white hair from her face, the wind having whipped it from behind her ears. It was obvious why Cullen might be attracted to her. She was pretty, and the aura she presented was companionable. “Meet Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Though I don't use that title much anymore.” Hawke said admonishingly as she extended her hand to the Inquisitor's, shaking it briefly before releasing it back to her. The Inquisitor seemed to be struck dumb at meeting Hawke. She needed to read Varric's book and see exactly what he was telling the world about her.

“Hawke, the Inquisitor, Evelyn. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus.” Varric shrugged. “You and I did fight him after all.”

Hawke moved to prop a foot up and lean on the ledge overlooking the rest of Skyhold, Evelyn joining her, still silent as if she were in awe of the person in front of her. “You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard,” Hawke intoned, trying to shake Evelyn from her slack jawed look. “I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Evelyn shrugged as she crossed her arms to look out over the fortress as well, finally breaking her as so far silence. “You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari.”

Hawke looked back at her, a smirk pulling her lips wider. She recognized the underlying snark in Evelyn's voice even as her soft tones danced on the wind melodiously. “I don't see how that really applies... Or is there a horde of rampaging Qunari I don't know about?”

“There's _a_ Qunari." Her brows quirked thoughtfully. "He almost qualifies as a horde all by himself. Fortunately he's on our side.” Hawke was starting to like Varric's new friend.

“So, then, what can I tell you?” Hawke asked, her voice wispy.

“Varric said that you fought Corypheus before?” Evelyn asked.

Hawke pushed away from where she was leaning and paced a short distance before speaking again. “Fought and killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them.”

Varric took a swig from the bottle he and Hawke had been sharing and then spoke up. “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

“If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again,” Hawke mused, her expression turning sour for the first time. She was reaching into personal territory.

“So Corypheus has the Venatori, the Red Templars, and now possibly the Wardens as well? Wonderful,” Evelyn groaned. Hawke knew that particular groan of regret that came with the burden of accepting a title.

“I didn't come this far just to give you _bad_ news,” Hawke said, her grimace quickly being replaced by her smirk once again. “I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks,” Varric sighed. “Did your friend disappear with them?”

“No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood,” Hawke supplied.

“If you didn't know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?” Evelyn asked with what sounded like simple curiosity.

“The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of Lyrium. It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it.”

“Corypheus had templars with him at Haven. They looked like they had been exposed to the Lyrium you described,” Evelyn agreed.

“Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more,” Hawke said thoughtfully.

“I'll take any lead I can get at the moment,” Evelyn said with a thankful smile.

“Good. I'll do whatever I can to help. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time, I'll make sure of it.” Her expression was serious again, verging on hatred and she attempted to wipe it clear. She needed to find Stroud and see if he knew anything more about what was happening with the Wardens. She cleared her throat and the Inquisitor moved awkwardly, shuffling her feet. The serious part of their conversation seemed over, but the young mage was clearly itching to ask Hawke some questions. Hawke crossed her arms and offered an encouraging smile.

"You said you thought you'd killed Corypheus?" Evelyn asked.

Hawke had been pondering that very same question since Varric's letter. "The Grey Wardens had him imprisoned. They used my father's blood in a ritual to seal Corypheus inside. But he could still reach out to them and influence the Warden's thoughts. He sent them after me. And I didn't just _think_ I killed him. When the fight was done, he was dead on the ground. Maybe his ties to the Blight somehow brought him back, or maybe it's old Tevinter Magic... but he was dead, I swear it." She shrugged along with her lack of a solid explanation.

Evelyn didn't seem to mind the lack of answers as she continued to ask questions, reminding Hawke much of herself. Gathering facts. She broached another topic and Hawke fudged the truth a bit. "Where did you go _after_ the mages rebelled?"

"I... heard the Chantry might be sending an Exalted March to Kirkwall to put down the rebellion. We thought that leaving woud save lives and force the Divine to divide her forces to hunt for us." Hawke shuffled her feet. "But all the Circles were rising up by then. We helped a lot of them take that final step."

Evelyn's next question threw Hawke for a loop and she balked before answering. "I'd like to know more about Anders. What was he like?" She asked the question, her lip flying into her mouth as if she knew asking might be out of line.

Evelyn continued to gnaw on her lip as Hawke gathered her words. "Complicated. It's not like the minstrels make it out to be," she set a narrowing of her eyes on Varric, knowing he was partially responsible for the portrayal of Anders that had been built over the last few years. She sighed. "He's not just a monster or a hero. Or maybe he's both. He was trying to change the world. He knew it couldn't happen peacefully."

Evelyn nodded, absorbing Hawke's side of the story and then frowned. "I heard you had family and friends in Kirkwall. Where are they now?"

"I had to keep my family safe. I'm never really happy leaving Anders alone, but once I realized Wardens were acting strangely, I had no choice. I've seen Corypheus affect Anders' mind before. If he was involved, I couldn't risk it happening again."

Finally, Evelyn smirked and glanced at Varric. "I assume Varric's been feeding you information about the Inquisition? What does he say about me?"

She played it off as a joke, but Evelyn was asking her because she was afraid of floundering in her new position. "Only good things, I promise. I was a little surprised, actually. Varric isn't one for religion in general, but he thinks highly of the Inquisition. I think the exact phrase was, 'has a good shot at fixing Blondie's mess'."

Evelyn left them shortly, saying she needed to tell Cullen about Crestwood. When she disappeared back toward the lower reaches of the Keep, Hawke turned back to Varric who had perched himself on a barrel in the corner. She leaned her rear against the wall, her feet kicked out before her, crossed at the ankles. She snatched the bottle from him before he could finish it and asked him. "So this new crowd you're hanging out with... are they... all right?"

Varric let out a loud chuckle. "Don't worry, _mom_. I won't let them get me into too much trouble. At least not any more than you used to."

"I brought you the best trouble," Hawke said, rolling her shoulders.

Varric watched her for a minute, the silence comfortable. "How are you, Hawke? Really?"

"Living in Kirkwall, I forgot what a simple life could be like. Right now, at this very moment, my blood is pumping at the chance to get back out there and do... something... but I also can't stop thinking about how important it is that I get back to them. They're my world, Varric," she admitted, pulling the stuffed toy from her belt and closing her fist around it. "Bianca is too young to understand why I just took off."

Varric flapped a hand. "Ach, Blondie won't let her miss you... How is he, by the way? Still crazy?"

Hawke blinked away tears and laughed. "In a good way... Justice has been practically non existent since Kirkwall. He saved us when the Breach opened up. I think he and I have come to an understanding. When I didn't kill Anders for what he'd done, was the first time we ever saw eye to eye. I think... Sometimes I wonder if Bianca wasn't his doing. There was no way in hell we should have been able to conceive. With the taint, and me being on preventative herbs..." she sighed and nestled the dragon back into her belt. "It doesn't matter...." They finished off the bottle, catching up until it was nearly dark. Varric hadn't changed a bit. "Do you think it's safe for me to show my face around here?"

Varric scoffed. "I'm sure the entire Keep knows you're here. If Aurora has one flaw it's her inability to keep a secret. I'm actually surprised the Seeker hasn't hunted me down and strangled me yet."

"She can't be that bad," Hawke scoffed in disbelief.

"Ha. Take Aveline, make her grumpier and add a chip to her shoulder when it comes to me, and you've got Cassandra..."

Hawke flinched in sympathy. "At least I got to see you before you died."

Varric patted her arm. "Just make my eulogy believable."

"I can't promise that until I've read my biography," she smirked.

"Historical fiction," he corrected with a chuckle and wandered off toward the Keep.

Hawke followed the battlements around the outskirts of Skyhold, marveling at the design of the Keep. Why had this place been abandoned? She allowed her feet to carry her until she came across one of the tall towers that stood near the main entrance. The side entrance was propped open, and a soft glow of candles illuminated the inside. She crept toward the open door to see whose office she was going to have to cross through if she wanted to continue around toward where she assumed the kitchens were. Behind a heavy desk, surrounded by several bookshelves and nearly weighed down with stacks of papers sat Cullen, his head propped on his gloved fingers that were splayed so the tips were pressed against his temples. His eyes were closed and she smirked. She moved as quietly as she could, heading straight for his desk and noisily plopping down on the edge and plucking the top piece of parchment from the closest pile. "Maker's breath!" he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat at the surprising noise.

"Meredith would be disappointed," Hawke teased, fishing through more of his papers. "You just let a mage sneak up on you. Where's that Kirkwall vigilance?"

"Hawke?! I..." he pressed his lips together and a frown formed on top of the frown he had already been sporting through his surprised look. It was a complex array of expressions for one person. He snatched the papers she had plucked from his desk out of her hands and sighed. "I'd heard you were here. Evelyn already gave me the report."

At her name slipping from his lips, his mouth quirked in a slight grin, the scar on his right tugging upwards with the expression. She lifted herself up with palms on the desk, hopping back to the floor, "Why, yes, Cullen, it's nice to see you, too. How have you been?" she mocked at his rather grumpy greeting.

He glanced up at her as her arms crossed over her chest and seemed to actually look at her for the first time. He rubbed his forehead, sighing again. "I'm sorry... You look good Hawke. I trust you've been well?"

She shrugged and resumed her place on his desk, browsing for more things to fiddle with as she spoke. "Let's see... In the time since you last saw me, I visited Ferelden, met my cousin, made nice with a King, got married, visited Nevarra (lovely country), fled the College, laid low in Ferelden, had a daughter, and here I am..." She flung her arms to the sides, presenting herself.

"Wait... you're a mother?" A small teasing smirk spread over him, that crooked grin appearing again. "Andraste save the future generations from more Hawkes."

She laughed aloud, picking up a paperweight and juggling it from one hand to the next. "And she's a red head... I'm going to send all of my children to work for the Inquisition when they come of age. I hear you've made nice with the mages. I've observed a particular personal interest in one in particular."

He cocked a brow at her, a light flush coming to his face. "I d... I don't know what you mean." His arm lifted upwards and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"So that little smirk when you said her name was imagined?" Hawke pointed out, tossing the paperweight higher. He reached out and took it out of the air, setting it back down on the papers it had been securing.

"Andraste preserve me... you can't mean Evelyn..." the smile returned, unimpeded. "She is a good person with a sharp mind who has proven herself time and again for the Inquisition."

"And you want to know what her lips taste like..." Hawke said with a smile.

"Yes... what? No!" he denied, his face getting redder. "You are insufferable, Hawke."

"I've been told that," she agreed. "So what are you going to do about it, Commander?"

"Nothing. She's the Inquisitor..." he said grumpily.

Hawke sobered for a moment, tipping her head. "You don't care that she's a mage?"

He glanced up, his amber eyes blazing. "That has no bearing on her character."

"Andraste's tits... You _have_ changed," Hawke gasped.

"You kiss your daughter with that mouth?" he sighed, shrugging off the fire she'd lit under him and attempting to get back to companionable.

" _And_ her father... vigorously... You should try it some time. Maybe with Evelyn," Hawke waggled her brows.

"Oh, get out..." he waved his hand toward the door. "I assume we'll be seeing more of you in the near future."

"Like a bad rash you can't get rid of," she japed, pushing away from the desk and waving goodbye before leaving him rolling his eyes.

 


	25. The Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke faces some of her biggest fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long, but it ties up Hawke's story so we can move on to the Inquisition.

Hawke spent the night at Skyhold, running into some very interesting characters in her hunt for the kitchens. She finally ended up stretching her bedroll out in the circle of tents that was set up by a particularly rowdy group of mercenaries calling themselves the Chargers. They had less than civilly asked her to join them when she had abandoned her hunt and stopped a dalish elf to ask directions. After a few pints in, they had fed her like she was one of their own, and a booming voice sounded over the noisy rendition of a chant they had written about themselves. "Krem!" A massive Qunari made his way into the circle, picking out the young lieutenant that had been the most reserved of the group.

Krem stood up and drew his heels together. "Chief..."

"I hope you know we have a squatter... If not, you're fired." He sat his hulking form down on a barrel and regarded Hawke with his one eye, his head cocked. Like most Qunari she had met, he had grayish skin and stood a good foot and a half over everyone else. His almost black horns stuck from his head to the sides, curving upwards slightly at the tips. The eye that was visible was a light blue, but it studied her with a fierceness of any Qunari. On his right shoulder were tattoos that spanned over his meaty bicep and pectoral visible quite plainly since there was no sign of any shirt on him. "Iron Bull," he said in greeting, holding out his giant hand. "And you're Hawke."

Her eyes widened as he shook her hand, obviously aware of his strength and holding back so he wouldn't crush it. "News travels fast," she said wispily.

He let out a bellowing chuckle. "You're camped with the _Inquisition_. Red makes it her business to know everything around here. And because she knows, _I_ know. I'm the Ben Hassrath's eye and ears around here. Plus I'm pretty sure every Qunari knows your face." It wasn't said with menace and Hawke relaxed.

"You're Ben Hassrath?" Hawke asked. "You don't look like the last Ben Hassrath I knew."

"Right," he said knowingly. "You worked that job in Orlais with Tallis."

"It's possible you know more than Varric," Hawke said, impressed.

"Varric knows more than he lets on. I'm just honest about it," he said with a thick shrug.

Just then, a tall thin elf wearing yellow plaid leggings that only reached to her calves and a bright red shirt sewn haphazardly together streaked past where they were sitting. Then she paused and scurried back, hiding behind Bull. Hawke noticed the jagged haircut she sported and what she had behind her back. "Stole Vivi's heni hat! Hide me!"

Hawke recognized the henin from the College and wondered how the icy woman who stood for all things templar had weaseled her way into the Inquisition. Bull cocked his head back to look over his shoulder at the girl hiding rather easily behind him. "Sera... You know she's not going to chase you, right?"

"Well then, hide the hat. I don't want it, it's ugly!" she snorted and burst into mad giggles as she plopped the hat onto Bull's head. Then she scurried away to likely cause havoc elsewhere.

Bull grumbled and pulled the hat from his head to place gently beside him. "That'll make it back to her eventually... So, the Boss says we'll be going to Crestwood soon. You traveling with us, or on your own?"

"I'm leaving in the morning. I need a bit of a head start to find the cave and make sure Stroud isn't a drooling lunatic," she explained.

"Makes sense. Feel free to camp with us tonight. They're still working on airing out the Keep and assigning space."

 

Hawke made her way to Crestwood on foot, the journey taking her a full eight days. She had forgotten how wet Ferelden could be as she sloughed through the mud up to the city gates. She had taken to wearing her hood and mask while she was traveling, not wanting any interruptions. It was a good thing too, because just outside the village, there had been a pair of Wardens. She followed at a casual distance, listening to them as they decided to fan out around the village and look for Stroud. She hurried from the village and made her way around toward a road that wound under an earthen roof. As she enjoyed the short reprieve from the rain, she paused at the sound of gurgling breaths. Her staff was in her hand in an instant just before she was surrounded by shuffling undead. They were slimy and dripping, what was left of their skin sloughing off to make wet slapping sounds on the ground. They smelled of putrefaction and Hawke recoiled, drawing her mana to the surface to launch a volley of lightning bolts into the corpses. The magic spread all around her, striking all of the dozen or so shufflers as it conducted across the moisture in the air. Out of nowhere, a streak of blue rushed past her with a shout and rammed into one of the corpses still standing. When it fell to the ground, he slashed at another with his sword Hawke turned to keep an eye on their backs and saw two more moving in quickly. She cast a mind blast, knocking them away before they could get their hands on her and then released the blade on her staff to slash their limbs off so all they could do was chomp at her and gnash their teeth. She helped Stroud to finish off the rest and then greeted him. "You have impeccable timing."

"Hawke, what are you doing here?" he asked in his thick orlesian accent, wiping gore from his blade before sheathing it.

"I'm helping the Inquisition... and looking for you. I was concerned after your last letter," she said.

"The situation is... complicated. Let me show you where I've been staying. You can travel much more freely than myself and might be able to let the Inquisition know where to find me. I don't know how much help I can be, but I will try my best." He gave her a short bow of his head and led her to the smuggler's cave.

After they had shared a meal in the relative dryness of the cave, Hawke decided to head into the village so she could send a message to Evelyn about where to find them. She needn't have bothered. When she made it to the mouth of the cave, Evelyn had already found them. Hawke had to hand it to her, the woman was efficient. She hadn't come alone. Iron Bull nodded at Hawke with a smile as Evelyn approached with him and two others. Hawke recognized the young blonde boy who she had seemed to have forgotten had spoken to her on the battlements, his floppy brimmed hat still dripping, even now that the rain had ceased and the sun was attempting to peek out through the clouds. She didn't know why she hadn't seen it before, but the boy was clearly Fade Touched. It was different than looking at Justice, but something about him brought a calm to the area when he looked at you. The other man was a mage... Tevinter if his clothes were any indication. He stood proudly at Evelyn's side in spite of the irritation at the weather that was obvious in his curled lip beneath a handlebar mustache that was neatly trimmed. Everything about the man was neat in fact. All of the way from his styled hair to his glittering fingers sporting at least one ring on each of them down to his boots, tipped in silver.

Evelyn was cheery in spite of the dampness of her hair. Hawke paused in her tracks. "Glad you made it. I just got here myself." She chucked a thumb over her shoulder. "My contact with the Wardens is at the back of the cave."

"He's not the only Warden around here. It's a good thing his friends didn't find him in Crestwood," Evelyn said, letting her know that she had encountered the Wardens in the village as well.

"How much blood is shed by good men following bad orders?" Hawke wondered aloud, her irritation at Corypheus growing. She spun on her heel, leading Evelyn and the others back to where Stroud waited. Evelyn took the lead, a little more gung-ho than Hawke had expected. Stroud was on edge and at the sound of a drawn sword, Hawke pushed in after them and saw Stroud's sword pointed at Evelyn's chest. "It's just us! I brought the Inquisitor!" she assured him.

As he glanced at Hawke, he sighed and sheathed his sword. “My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor.” He gave a short bow and Evelyn brushed the threat off like it hadn't happened, Bull grunting at her back.

“I'll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own,” Evelyn sighed. “I wonder though. Might those troubles have anything to do with Corypheus?” Hawke perked up, glad that Evelyn was jumping straight to the point. She wanted to hear this too. For Anders' sake.

“I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues, but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.” Stroud said, his tone grave.

His admission irritated Hawke. He had this information, but he hadn't told her much besides 'corruption in the ranks'. She could have used this sooner. "I recall that being a bad thing,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I _don't_ recall you telling me about all _this_.”

“It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy,” Stroud said apologetically.

“Is the Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?” Evelyn butted in before Hawke could rip him a new one for holding vital information from her. He knew very well what her husband was. He should have told her.

“The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him. Starts with dreams. Then come whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat,” Stroud explained.

“And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now? They think they're dying?” Hawke exclaimed, taking a step back.

“Yes. Likely because of Corypheus,” Stroud hung his head. “If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear.”

“And then they do something desperate... which is of course what Corypheus wants.” Hawke sighed in anger, hoping that Anders was in no real danger since he knew that the Calling was not his real death staring him in the face. She wondered if Solona had gotten caught up in all of this. She still had not heard from her cousin, and Alistair had not written her any further letters updating her on Solona's whereabouts. As her thoughts drifted in worry, Evelyn spoke again.

“So the Wardens think they're dying and have stopped thinking clearly? That won't go well.” Evelyn's sigh matched her own.

“We are the only ones who can slay Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world.” Stroud was pacing now, making the Inquisitor fidget in discomfort. “Warden Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach.” He folded a map that he had on his table and handed it to Evelyn. “It is an ancient Tevinter Ritual Tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers.”

 

Hawke had never been so far west and as she and Stroud traveled, together now, they reached the edge of Orlais after what felt like forever. She lamented not asking the Inquisition for horses. Past Orlais, there was not much else besides endless desert that fried Hawke's skin if she didn't stay hidden from the beating sun under her hood. She had been receiving frequent missives from Varric that told them of one hold up after another that was keeping Evelyn from following them. Hawke understood the pressure that the Inquisitor was under, and she did her best to remain patient. Stroud was not the best traveling companion, but Hawke endured.

They set up camp in a nondescript pile of ruins not far from the Ritual tower, keeping an eye on the Wardens that were coming and going. There was one of the crackling green rifts not far from their location, but so far, it had remained dormant, the crystallized pieces of the Fade making constant sounds like a glass shattering against a wall. It somehow made her think of Fenris, smashing the bottle of Pavali against the wall of his mansion so many years ago. She wondered where he was. That thought sent her into thoughts of the rest of her friends. She glanced over at Stroud and at that moment she would have traded him for just one night of companionable silence with Fenris or a rousing game of cards with Izzy. He seemed oblivious to her growing irritation and she sighed, reaching down to take the stuffed dragon from Bianca and hug it to her chest.

"You said your husband is a Warden?" Stroud asked, breaking her violently from her thoughts.

She cleared her throat and spoke, her voice raspy after not being used in so many days other than to decide where to camp. She had given up trying to break the taciturn shell of the man who she was stuck with. "Yes, although he hasn't served in... a very long time."

"Is he aware that the Calling is false?" Stroud wondered.

Hawke nodded. "As soon as we heard Corypheus was involved, we knew." She squeezed the toy in her fists. "Bastard."

Stroud allowed the silence to fall again. Hawke had attempted many times as she made her way across the country to bring to words everything she wanted and needed to say and send it to Anders with a raven, but the number of incinerated bits of parchment she had left in her wake had become too much to bear and she had conceded defeat. The only solution was seeing them again. She had to make this better for him.

 

Hawke had miraculously gotten very good at conjuring ice out of necessity in the desert as they waited for Evelyn. Several times a day she would conjure a few cup fulls of ice and then call her fire to melt them down so she and Stroud would have enough to drink. The nearby water source was contaminated by Maker knew what and making their own water was just easier once she had gotten the hang of it.

They camped for nearly a week before the estimated arrival of Evelyn and her people. When the day finally rolled around, Hawke and Stroud moved closer to the ritual tower and waited, hearing odd sounds coming from across the gorge where a stone bridge extended to the broken down tower. Sound traveled strangely in the wide open desert with nothing to bounce off of and echo back. Around midday, Stroud nudged Hawke and she lifted a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun and peered ahead to where he pointed. Sure enough, Evelyn was strolling toward them, her same three companions on her heel.

When they reached the entry onto the bridge, Stroud greeted Evelyn much more companionably than he had been treating her the entire time they were together. “I'm glad you made it Inquisitor. I fear they've already started the ritual.”

Hawke wrinkled her nose as more of the odd sounds resounded toward them. "Blood magic, I'd wager. You can smell it... or see the corpses. You take point. I'll guard your backs.” She was eager to have this done. She had sand in places she didn't even know that sand could wedge itself. She paused at the archway and the others continued across the bridge.

After a rather uneventful few minutes in which the wind carried away any chance of her hearing what was being said across the way, a great crackling of magic drew her attention and the pop of a rift opening sounded across the desert. Hawke spun and broke into a run toward the tower as two words rang out above a cacophony. "Kill them!"

Someone pushed bodily past her as she entered into a full on melee of action. Several warden mages were attacking Evelyn and her people. In a corner there was a stack of bodies, all donning rogue or warrior armor emblazoned in Warden blue. Hawke drew her staff as she was assaulted by a shade while she attempted to make sense out of how things had gone so terribly wrong. She reached out her hand and touched her palm to the shade, lighting it on fire to get it away from her so she would have room to cast, her staff swirling. Several different forms of magic were cracking and flashing around the too small space. The rift in the middle of it all was distracting as the Fade licked across her skin.The young blonde boy was flickering in and out of the fight, cutting up the Warden mages with a pair of daggers. He reminded her of how Fenris used to phase in and out as he called upon his tattoos. She was very curious to figure out that boy. Bull smacked a pair of demons back, leaving a fiery rage demon to Evelyn and the Tevinter with the handlebar mustache. Evelyn grabbed hold of the demon while the Tevinter peppered it with shards of ice from his staff. The fight was over quickly with so much magic flying around. Hawke had taken care of the bloodied up mages with a Fist of the Maker, crushing them into the ground. Stroud slashed a demon in half and when there were no more enemies, Evelyn scurried up under the open rift and reached her palm upwards toward it. She worked whatever magic was housed in the mark and Hawke could see the strand of bright green magic as it connected to the rift. After a few seconds of building the connection, Evelyn physically closed her fist around the mark and yanked her hand backwards. The rift snapped closed and Evelyn shook out her hand.

"So..." Hawke found herself chuckling. She was certain it was madness and not amusement that brought on the expression. She was trying her best to keep to her aloof mask, but it was getting harder and harder as she saw everything that Corypheus was responsible for and realized that she had let him loose from his prison. This was on her head. "That went well."

“You were correct,” Stroud said to her, sorrow in his tone. “Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus.”

“And the Warden warriors?” Hawke asked, glancing around at the pile of bodies. “Oh, of course. It's not _real_ blood magic until someone get's sacrificed.” She hung her head and crossed her arms. Everything was so out of hand.

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and mumbled to herself. “Human sacrifice, demon summoning... who looks at this and thinks it's a good idea?” She threw her arms to the sides and turned to start pacing.

“The fearful and the foolish,” Hawke reminded her breathily.

“The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons,” Stroud tried to interject calmly.

“All blood mages do,” she said cocking her hips. “Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions... and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions.” She found herself rubbing roughly over the scar on her arm.

Stroud sighed and addressed Evelyn. “I believe I know where the Wardens are, your worship. Erimond fled in that direction. There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way, Adamant.”

“Good thinking,” Evelyn said, pausing in her pacing.

“The Warden and I will scout out Adamant,” Hawke said gently, recognizing Evelyn's distress. A lot had settled on the young girl's shoulders and Hawke recognized repression when she saw it as Evelyn absently dug a thumb into her palm. Closing rifts likely took much more of a toll that she would ever let on. “and confirm the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold.”

 

Adamant fortress was a very old and very strongly protected and warded dwarven built structure. It sat upon a great chasm at the edge of the Western Approach that opened directly into the Deep Roads. The building itself looked minuscule, but Hawke knew that the metal and jetstone clawed deep into the side of the chasm itself. The Wardens had used it once to house the Order during the Second Blight where they beat back the horde with their strength and the help of the powerful griffon mounts that had been the Warden's biggest asset centuries ago before the beasts went extinct. Now-a-days, it should have been abandoned. Sure enough, it was where the Venatori mage had scurried off to. Judging from the flickering of several lights in almost all of the windows of the keep, the Wardens were squatting again in their ancestral home. With the confirmation, Hawke and Stroud started the long journey back to Skyhold.

When the magic of Skyhold Keep slipped over her skin, she immediately felt better. So many weeks on the road under the heat of the desert sun with the stoic Stroud as her only companion had been maddening. She was eager to deliver her report and find a quiet place to stuff her face and have a proper bath. In the time she had been away, the Inquisition had worked wonders on the Keep itself. The scaffolding that had peppered it all around was completely gone, and no one was camping outside in the courtyard anymore. In the upper courtyard the building behind which she had first met Evelyn, had been turned into a tavern. The sign above the door read Herald's Rest, and the door was wide open and inviting. She scratched at her sunburnt nose as she headed for the Keep proper where one of the ever present Inquisition scouts had informed her the War Room was housed. Inside the huge double doors, was a nicely decorated hall lined with full length dining tables that would likely be used if the Inquisition invited the entirety of Thedas to a formal dinner. She strutted along the hall, marveling at the unfinished mosaics peppering all the walls, and the stately stained glass windows that had been adorned with the symbol of the Inquisition. (A sword of Mercy spearing an eye wreathed in the sunburst.) Hawke was especially surprised to see the large and overbearing throne that stood at the end of the hall on a short dais. She could see that whomever had commissioned it had taken into account that the Inquisitor was a mage and apparently very proud of the fact. It was curved and shaped to look like the symbol of the enchanters. She had stopped short to examine it when Varric approached her from the right. "Impressive, isn't it?... Between you and me, Aurora avoids it like it's cursed."

Hawke chuckled, cocking her head and crossing her arms. "I should hope so. Has no one ever questioned why the Enchanters are represented by an enormous cock?"

Varric took another look at the chair and his own head tipped before he smiled. "Thanks Hawke... now I can't unsee it."

"So, I'm supposed to be giving a report in the warroom?..." she hinted, the vague description given by the scout not quite getting her past the main hall.

Varric swung his arm for her to follow him. "That's this way." He led her to the second door on their left and into a warmly lit office. The desk was empty, but the whole place was tidy and organized. Pink and purple tapestries were draped decoratively from the ceiling and a large banner with the Inquisition heraldry hung behind the desk. They crossed the office and through another door into a long hallway. It seemed as though the Inquisition had decided to neglect this particular hallway from the massive crumbling hole in the wall that allowed sunlight to pour in just outside another much larger doorway at the end. Varric walked her up to the doorway and paused. When she raised her brow he scoffed and chuckled. "I try to avoid the warroom. It's... intense. I'll wait out here."

Hawke shrugged. "Suit yourself." She pushed open the small portal door that was carved into the middle of the left hand door, and strolled in importantly. Three sets of eyes fell on her from the opposite side of a massive table made from a single slab of wood and mounted on an equally wide tree trunk that looked as if it were growing from the ground. Maps were spread all over the table and three sets of tiny figurines dotted the maps strategically. Hawke took in the secrets of the warroom as she glanced around at the rest of the sparse decorations.

"Hawke? We weren't expecting you for another few days. Evel... uh... the Inquisitor is away in Redcliffe on a personal matter," Cullen said, his cheeks flushing and his hand rising to the back of his neck as he pushed away from leaning on the table. The two women in the room on either side of him (Leliana and the dark Antivan from the courtyard) exchanged glances and tittered softly. Cullen glared at them both in turn and then said, "Do you have something for us?"

Hawke couldn't help her smirk and moved closer to the table to take a moment to lean against it herself. She picked up one of the golden fist figures, guessing they belonged to Cullen from the giant replica that stood behind him against the window. "Stroud was right. The Wardens are holed up in Adamant." Hawke plopped the figure down on the map where Adamant was on the map. "From what we could see, it's heavily defended and packed with crazy people."

Leliana spoke up. "The Inquisitor told us that the Wardens are summoning demons. Could you tell if they had begun doing so at the Fortress?"

"Not from our vantage, but if that mage knows we followed him, he could be speeding up the process to have his army before the Inquisition gets there," she pointed out.

"Thank you, Mistress Hawke. Will you be accompanying us during the assault?" The Antivan woman asked, a quill perched between her fingers, poised over a small wooden board she carried in her hands stacked with papers.

"I wouldn't miss it," she agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I still have sand in my ass crack. Is there a bath house?"

Cullen let out a soft groan, accompanied with a roll of his eyes as Leliana fished through a stack of papers and began to comb over them with her eyes, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. The Antivan looked mildly flustered. "I believe the barracks has a communal bath, yes."

"Wonderful!" Hawke pushed away from the table and subtly shuffled a few papers out of order, earning a glare from Cullen which she responded to by blowing him a kiss and strutting from the room.

Varric was waiting outside the room, leaning against the unbroken wall, his ankles and arms crossed. He looked casual, but she knew he was also curious. "I tracked that Venatori mage back to Adamant Fortress. They're looking at assault options now in the warroom."

He looked her over, noting every single irregularity on her person, from the sunburnt redness of her peeling nose to the sandy grit that clung to her armor even after she had attempted to clean up in a river a few days prior as they passed through Orlais. "Thanks for coming."

She watched him hang his head, regretting pulling her into this mess. She couldn't blame him. She needed to finish this. Even if she wasn't the one to bury Corypheus for good, anything she could do to kick him where it hurt (wherever that might be on an ancient darkspawn aspiring to godhood) was too little. "You did well, Varric. The Inquisitor is... just who we need."

"Oh, it's been great!" he said with sarcasm, his voice ragged. "Murderous Wardens, Archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages, and crazy templars. Just like home."

"I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall," she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

He sighed shortly and adopted his usual carefree tone. How very much alike they were... "This is the ass end of Thedas. You know they eat snails here?" he sighed again. "Still, I think... I need to finish this out. If it weren't for me and Bartrand, none of this would have happened. So much for changing our lives."

Hawke chuckled softly. "That's what happens when you try to change things... Things change... You can't always control how."

Her inspiring speech was interrupted when the door toward the office down the hall clicked open. Evelyn stepped through, looking road weary. When she looked up and saw they were standing there, she wiped the glazed look from her eyes and painted on a smile for her unexpected audience. "Hawke, you're back."

Hawke returned her smile, and repeated what she had told Varric a few minutes before. "The Warden and I tracked that Venatori mage to Adamant Fortress. They're looking at assault options in the warroom."

Evelyn headed for the warroom, completely ignoring the crumbled stone along the floor, stepping around it as if she knew where every single brick sat. "Thank you," she said politely before slipping inside. Hawke heard Cullen greet her excitedly before she closed the door behind her.

Hawke pointed. "So, is that a thing yet?"

Varric chuckled. "Infuriating, isn't it? Well, now you know how we all felt while you and Blondie danced around each other for three years."

"We weren't that bad," Hawke insisted.

"No... not awkward... but the flirting got so intense toward the end that even _I_ wanted to sleep with you two..." He pushed away from the wall and started back toward the main hall. "I'm sure you're looking to grab some down time before we're marching."

She shrugged, following him. "It's like I told them in there... sand in my ass crack, Varric."

He laughed out loud. "I would have loved to see the look on Ruffles' face when you let that gem hit the war table."

"The Antivan?" Hawke asked.

He nodded. "Josephine. Purveyor of all things fancy. She's our ambassador."

"You've moved up in the world, Varric. You have an ambassador," she teased.

" _I_ don't have an ambassador, the Inquisition does... I've got a constant headache and a lying publisher," he chuckled. "Come on... the barracks are this way."

After Hawke had cleaned up, she changed into a set of clothes that she had in her pack so she could properly clean her armor up and avoid another sand incident. Then she headed to the tavern she had seen on her way in. The atmosphere was nothing like the Hanged Man. Immediately upon entering, she saw a young, dark haired bard plucking at a lute and singing softly in front of the fire. To the left was the bar with a surley looking dwarf polishing a row of mugs. Behind the fireplace and a tall narrow staircase, Iron Bull and his Chargers sat in a ring of chairs playing some sort of drinking game. Every now and then, harmless, blunt tipped practice arrows plunked downwards from the second floor into the ring of mercenaries, mostly aimed for their unprotected mugs. Hawke poked her head around the banister and saw the same haphazardly dressed elf from the stolen henin incident giggling as she took aim for Krem and bounced an arrow off his head. Further up on a third level that nearly disappeared into the rafters, she noticed the blonde boy, perched on the railing like a gargoyle as he watched the bard sing with a gentle smile on his face.

Hawke was looking for a place to sit when Varric entered behind her. "Thought you might find your way here. You up for some Wicked Grace?"

"Is that even a question?" she asked and he led her to a table near the bar.

"Hey Tiny! We need players!" Varric called out.

"Anaan!" Bull shouted, standing and grabbed a drink from in front of him and stomped across the bar. He plunked the mug down at a seat across from Hawke and grinned. "I never lose. Unless it's to Josie."

"I'm willing to test that theory," Hawke said as a mug appeared in front of her and the surly dwarf walked away.

"Did someone say losers?" the young elf said, vaulting the rail onto the stairs and abandoning her bow. She jetted across the room, spinning Krem in a circle as she whizzed past him.

"Didn't you learn your lesson the last time, buttercup?" Varric asked as she flopped into the chair beside Hawke.

She shrugged. "Not my sovereigns, not my problem. Now deal me in, already."

 

The next morning, they were all roused bright and early, the army already preparing to march. Hawke had to hand it to Cullen, he was efficient. After donning her freshly cleaned armor, she headed down to the lower courtyard where mostly everyone had gathered. She spotted Evelyn and Cullen, standing off to the side of the stables. She was smiling up at him as she adjusted a piece of his armor. When she'd finished, he returned the grin, his lopsided smirk tugging at the scar on his lip. He took her elbow in his hand and pulled her close for a short but gentle kiss before leaving her to get the army into formation. Hawke couldn't help but smile. From their awkward beginnings and what she knew of his past, Hawke would have never guessed to see Cullen so happy with a mage. Evelyn stared after him for a moment before tucking her hair behind her ear and moving around the stables to check on her mount. Hawke sidled up to her and grinned. "So, Cullen, hmm?"

Evelyn started, Hawke obviously breaking her out of her own thoughts. She flushed crimson, and fumbled the buckles she had been adjusting. Then she gathered herself and a smile broke across her face. She turned those icy gray eyes on Hawke and they were sparkling. "I certainly never expected to find myself falling for an ex-templar, but..." she bit her lip.

Hawke spoke from experience, leaning against the stable wall. "We can't choose who we fall in love with."

"That is certainly true..." She stopped fidgeting with the buckles and glanced at Hawke again. "I believe Master Dennet has a mount prepared for you."

Hawke followed Evelyn's pointing finger to a tall black stallion already saddled and ready to go. She pressed her lips together in a smirk and looked at Evelyn. "Does it have a name?"

"I don't think so," Evelyn said, cocking her head.

"Well, that won't do," Hawke said, approaching the horse and petting a hand down his mane. "Let's see now..." She lifted her foot into the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle, adjusting her seat. Then she nudged him from his place and trotted him carefully around all of the people milling about. From the way he bobbed his head as he picked up his feet, he seemed to like Hawke on his back. She slowed him to a walk and he responded to the lightest squeeze of her thighs.

"It's funny," Evelyn said riding up beside Hawke. "I thought you might be a good fit. He's bitten everyone else who tried to mount him."

"What does that say about me?" Hawke said with a chuckle.

"Dennet was convinced we'd never find anyone to ride him. Varric said if you could tame a spirit of Justice, you could tame him. Looks like he was right," Evelyn was grinning.

Hawke leaned down at patted the horse's mane. "We showed all of those naysayers, didn't we..." she paused and let out a small hiccup of laughter. " _Neigh_ sayer..." she looked expectantly at Evelyn.

Evelyn scrinched her nose, mumbling the name under her breath for a moment before the pun hit her. "Andraste, that's terrible." Then she chuckled. "I _love_ it."

"He loves it too," the Fade touched boy said softly as he walked slowly between them and then wandered off.

"Don't mind him," the Tevinter said, approaching on his own painted mare and flourishing a hand, making his many rings glitter in the early morning sun. "Cole has a habit of saying exactly what's on his mind... and everyone else's." Evelyn reached over playfully backhanding the man's shoulder and he looked at her aghast.

"He is a little... odd," Hawke agreed, curious if they might let her know his story.

"Cole is a spirit... Compassion to be more specific," Evelyn informed her.

"You get used to the mind reading," the Tevinter said, then turned to Evelyn. "Evelyn, darling, you never properly introduced me to Varric's Champion."

Evelyn shrugged. "You've never had trouble letting everyone else know who you are..."

A single, boisterous 'HA' escaped the mage's lips before he turned back to Hawke. "Dorian Pavus, at your service." He flourished a salute and bowed in his seat, shooting her a shining grin. "And you are the woman responsible for nudging this little mage rebellion off it's ass. Good for you."

Hawke shrugged. "It was a group effort."

"Hmm, yes, well, I suspect it may never have gotten this far without you. Madame de Fer..." he said with a roll of his eyes and a twitch of his mustache. "has painted quite the picture of your involvement at the College... Although Fiona has much more positive things to say."

"Fiona is here?" Hawke asked in surprise.

"She didn't have much choice, you see. After that whole time magic fiasco in Redcliffe, she and her people were politely asked to remove themselves from Ferelden by the King himself," Dorian explained.

Before Hawke could ask any more questions, the army began to march. Dorian gracefully veered his horse toward where Bull was trudging along beside what looked to be the largest horse that Hawke had ever seen. "You'll have to forgive Dorian," Evelyn said with a snicker. "Once he starts talking, he seems to forget that not everyone knows everything, like he does." The sentiment was clearly sarcastic and Hawke smiled as well. "Ready to go?"

Hawke clicked her tongue and urged her horse forward. "Come on Neighsayer, time to get more sand in our butts."

 

Dorian liked hearing himself talk almost as much as Varric did. The two of them traded constant barbs along the road and Hawke found herself falling in with the crowd. It had been just her and Anders for so long that she had almost forgotten about road banter. There were three of Evelyn's people that did not seem to wish to join in the upbeat camaraderie and Hawke steered clear of them. The first, of course, was Vivienne de Fer, the stuck up mage from the College. The second was a stoic, middle aged Warden called Blackwall with an epic dual pointed beard (Hawke was convinced she had seen him smiling while Sera poked at him, but couldn't be sure), and the third, a quiet elf with a bald head and an often far off gaze that Evelyn named as Solas. In spite of Varric warning Hawke away from the Seeker with the sharp cheekbones and deep scar on her cheek, Cassandra seemed to harbor a case of hero worship and secretly found Hawke's company exciting. When Bull wasn't riding his giant horse, he and Sera seemed intent on practicing her shooting her bow from atop his horns. Evelyn had put a stop to that when Sera had decided to try to do it while standing.

Cullen was absolutely nothing like Hawke remembered. When Evelyn was around, the ex-templar practically lit up, ingratiating himself with the rest of the group. Hawke had known long ago that there had been hope for him. She was glad to see she hadn't been wrong.

After three weeks on the road with the army slowing them down, Hawke could sense Evelyn's concern at them being too late to save the Wardens. When they came within a few miles of Adamant, Hawke spurred Neighsayer forward. Already there were trebuchets and a battering ram attacking the fortress. The Inquisition was not playing games, it seemed. She galloped past Cullen as he veered from the group and started barking orders at his lieutenants. "I'm going up!" she shouted over her shoulder and pointed at the siege ladders that were being hoisted from the ground. She dismounted the stallion and handed his reigns to a nearby squire. She could feel the humming of magic just about everywhere. Her blood started pumping with the excitement of battle and she darted to the nearest ladder. Several soldiers were taking places on the ladders and holding on tightly so they could ride them up and help secure them on the battlements and allow more of their people access. Hawke slipped into place and the risers heaved, pulling the ropes to lift the ladder. The air whipped through her hair, tugging her hood off, as the ladder flew upwards. She braced herself and surprisingly quickly, the ladder fell against the fortress and she was at the top. She climbed the last few rungs, jamming the hooks over the stone rail of the battlement and vaulting over the edge.

Her boots landed in a war zone. Several Inquisition soldiers were already locked in battle with both Wardens and demons. She called her magic, drawing her staff and started to beat back the demons and allow the soldiers coming up behind her to gain a foothold. It was slow going. For each demon she killed, two more rose to take it's place. The air smelled charged, like the Fade was dripping into this world from somewhere nearby. She watched a shade push back a pair of soldiers and knock one off the side of the battlements. She reacted, slamming it from behind with a stonefist to draw it's attention away from the second man. When it turned on her, he slashed it in two with his sword.

Demons of all types were showing their faces. In spite of the mage presence within the Inquisition, there weren't many actually fighting with the army. It was likely for fear of possession with so many rifts everywhere. Hawke found herself relying on a laser focus that she had honed in the desert. She wound mana into her staff and executed the spell quickly, freezing a rage demon as it slithered toward another soldier. Before she could shatter it, an icy trail started toward her and she darted out of the way as the air around her grew frigid. She looked up and saw the floating pile of bones in a robe and her heart sunk as it looked back at her. _Despair,_ her mind identified the demon type. She knew exactly how to deal with it. Before it could gather enough mana to shoot more ice at her, she dropped a glyph at it's feet and directed her mana into it, exploding the ground below it. It shrieked with a high pitched squeal and darted away as it burned. The air cleared and her chest immediately felt less heavy. Before she could recover, she heard the bellowing laugh and felt the crackle of lightning from a pride demon. She spun and rocketed a stonefist from the end of her staff, aiming for the creature's gut. It stumbled, losing it's hold on the spell it had conjured to fling electricity around like a whip. She kept at it, hitting it with every spell she could think of. Finally, it jerked to it's knees and a few of the Inquisition soldiers pounced, taking it down with their swords.

Hawke kept at it, the battle strangely freeing. It had been so long since she had felt the sweat drip from her face as she hurled magic. She hadn't realized how much she missed the thrill. Boulders from the trebuchets, both flaming and not, rammed down all around and she danced among the wreckage. One of the massive boulders that landed atop a shade had something painted on it. She paused to read it and burst out in a fit of laughter as she cast her firestorm to deal with a group of Warden mages.

'All who walk in the sight of the Maker are one.'

'Stick THIS in your Taint, Blighty!'

When she finally noticed Evelyn among the crowd, she grinned madly. "Inquisitor, always a pleasure!"

Hawke's staff was still crackling with unspent magic and fire blazed in her palm. Evelyn sent her own grin across the thinning herd of demons. “Stay with my soldiers and see that they survive this!”

“I'll keep the demons off them as best I can,” Hawke promised and gathered her focus to fade step away to find more trouble.

She soon noticed a turn in the tide. Not many demons or Wardens remained and those that did were being swiftly dealt with by the Inquisition soldiers led by Cullen who had made his way into the Keep. "Find the Inquisitor!" he called when he saw her. It made her just a little bit proud that he would trust her at Evelyn's back.

She made her way off the battlements, running into Evelyn again. Stroud, Bull, Cole and Dorian were with her. “Commander Cullen will hold a path open for us as long as possible, Inquisitor. Our forces are ready when you are.”

Evelyn seemed to relax when Hawke mentioned Cullen and Hawke realized that she had likely not heard news of him since entering the fray. They all moved as a group toward the main bailey where a rift only rivaled in size by the breach itself stood wide open. Evelyn clenched her fist as Hawke took a count of the Wardens all gathered around. They were all looking up at a raised section of the bailey where an older woman with shorn white hair stood. The mage they had followed from the ritual tower was with her, scowling angrily, his arms crossed. The Warden Commander spoke, her voice rising above the sounds of battle outside. “Wardens! We are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect...”

“The Inquisition is inside, Clarel. We have no time to stand on ceremony.” The mage, Erimond she was told, had jerked forward, his face twisted in frustration. He grabbed the woman's arm.

“These men and women are giving their lives, Magister,” Clarel snapped, dragging her arm from his grasp. “That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty.” She moved away from him and with her back to the audience, spoke to a warrior. An older man like herself, his face solemn and determined. “It has been many long years, my friend.”

“Too many, Clarel,” the man sighed, kneeling before her, abasing himself. “If my sword arm can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do.”

Clarel was behind him in an instant, her expression regretful. “It will,” she almost whispered before slitting his throat.

Evelyn gasped and jerked forward, her hand on her staff as the man fell dead at Clarel's feet. Her movement drew the Venatori's attention. “Stop them!” He shouted. “We must complete the ritual!”

Evelyn moved closer to the assembled Wardens who had spun to face her and her team, anger in her eyes. “It's done, Clarel! There will be no ritual, and no demon army!”

The Venatori lifted his arms. “Then the blight rises with no Wardens left to stop it, and the whole world dies! Is that what you want?” Clarel glanced at Evelyn, and her face was still regretful. The man crossed his arms and continued. “And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.”

“We make the sacrifices no one else will,” Clarel tried to explain, her tone pleading. “Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.”

“And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!” Stroud said, stepping up beside Evelyn.

“Corypheus?” shock washed over Clarel's face and her shoulders slumped mildly. “ But he's dead.”

“These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel,” Erimond growled, getting up in the woman's face.

Hawke saw Clarel falter, rubbing her forehead, and trying to decide who was telling her the truth. Evelyn's shoulders sunk when Clarel dropped her hand and said defiantly, “Bring it through!”

As the mages surrounded the rift and the warriors moved toward Evelyn, Hawke bullied past to confront them, putting herself between Evelyn and the encroaching danger. “Please! I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!”

“I trained half of you myself!” Stroud added, his mustache ruffled. “Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!”

The rift was opening and time was running short. "Be ready with the ritual, Clarel,” The mage coached as a victorious smile seeped onto his face. “This demon is truly worthy of your strength.”

“Listen to me!” Evelyn shouted. “I have no quarrel with the Wardens! I have spared those I could! I don't want to kill you, but you're being used... and some of you know it, don't you?”

A murmur came over the crowd of warriors that stood before them. One spoke up. “The mages who've done the ritual? They're not right. They were my friends, but now they're like puppets on a string.”

“You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff!” Clarel called from above.

“He's not afraid, you are!” Hawke accused. “You're afraid that you ordered all of these brave men and women to die for nothing.”

“I honor your bravery, my brothers and sisters, but this is not the way. You have been tricked,” Stroud insisted.

The warriors all turned to look back at Clarel. Her expression was indeed one of fear. She glanced at the mage who took the chance to try and salvage her faltering resolve. “Clarel. We have come so far. You're the only one who can do this.”

“Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges,” Clarel said softly. “To avoid more bloodshed.”

His expression turned to anger and frustration. His staff was in his hand in seconds. “Or perhaps, I should bring in a more reliable ally.” He turned from her and tapped the butt of his staff on the ground three times. It sparked with the red glow of corrupted magic and he shouted. “My Master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!”

At the call of magic, a massive dragon shot up from below in the chasm. It was unlike any dragon Hawke had ever seen. Instead of scales, it's skin was made up of what looked like a combination of dragon skin and red lyrium. It stank of corruption as it beat it's ripped up wings above them and let out a ear splitting roar. It swooped low, releasing a spray of red lightning from it's lungs that charred the ground below. Wardens and Evelyn's people scattered out of the path of the dragon. It circled over head, doing some structural damage as it smashed through some statues and a tower, shrieking loudly. Hawke and Evelyn took cover as it landed behind them on one of the ramparts. The sound of magic ripped though the bailey and someone's staff clattered to the ground, drawing the dragon's attention. It's head swiveled and Hawke saw Evelyn peering around her cover to see that Clarel had attacked the Venatori. From the ground, he pleaded as Clarel eyed the dragon, her fist crackling with mage lightning. “Clarel, wait...”

It was too late. The woman released the bolt, hurling it at the dragon who immediately retaliated with another lightning breath directly at Clarel. She grunted and dove out of the way as the mage collected his staff and scurried away. The dragon took off and began blasting everything it saw. Chaos erupted and Clarel took off after him just as the enslaved warden mages completed the summoning, a gigantic pride demon manifesting in the middle of the yard. “Help the Inquisitor!” Clarel shouted to the remaining warriors as she gave chase.

Hawke assisted in the battle as they all fought the demon and tried to stay out of the line of the dragon's fiery breath. “Clarel is hurting! We have to help her!” Cole called, his voice strained as even with the death of the pride demon, more smaller demons poured through the rift.

With no hope of a break in the demons coming from the massive rift, Evelyn called her people to break away. Hawke followed as she headed for the stairs that Clarel and the mage had disappeared around and started up. At the crest, they were attacked by some shades that came from the shadows. After taking them down, she pushed forward like a woman with a purpose. As they made their way down a narrow balcony that spanned the length of the fortress, the dragon decided to grab a hold of the wall below and stuff it's enormous head between the stone pillars holding the ceiling up and breathe lightning into the enclosed space. Evelyn stopped short, Dorian's barrier flying up around her just in time. “Fasta Vass!” he shouted moving to kneel beside her where she had dropped to her knees to avoid the spray of lightning. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she agreed, getting to her feet and leaning her weight on her staff instead of her shaky legs. The dragon flew off again and she stepped over the charred ground and met some demons at the corner of the balcony that were engaged with some more Wardens. She was a fighter, determined and willful. Hawke was impressed.

Up two more flights of stairs, there was a trail of scorch marks from Clarel's magic. They caught up with the pair just through a large set of metal doors that led out onto a broken bridge. The Venatori was nearly at the end of it, running scared from Clarel. Finally, he turned and flung a fireball at her. Her barrier stopped it and she didn't even flinch as she bore down on him. “You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!”

He tried to flee again and found the edge of the bridge. Turning to hurl another fireball from his staff, he stepped right into Clarel's next spell as she ripped up the ground beneath him and knocked him off his feet. She circled him and he began to drag himself to his feet, chuckling weakly. “You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch!” He couldn't fully raise to his feet and he spat blood onto the stone. “All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!” Clarel sneered and swung the butt of her staff towards him, lightning crackling. When it struck, he was slid with the force of the spell back toward where Evelyn stood at the head of the group where Hawke used to find herself. He curled in on himself, moaning pathetically as his clothing smoked. “You could have served a new God.” he whimpered.

Clarel lifted her staff as she approached to take the killing blow. “I will _never_ serve the Blight!” she cried, but before she could bring her staff down on him, the dragon appeared out of nowhere, dropping heavily onto the bridge and closing it's jaws around the Warden-Commander. It took off as quickly as it had landed with her in its mouth. Hawke watched as it spun and landed above the doorway they had come in. It shook it's head twice like a dog shaking a rabbit it had caught then flung Clarel to the ground. The woman landed, bleeding and soggy just a few feet from Evelyn. The dragon crept down from it's perch, stalking towards the rest of them, Evelyn it's target. She backed up, mindful of the broken bridge behind her, with no where else to go. Clarel rolled onto her back, blood spurting from the through and through jagged tooth marks in her gut. The dragon stepped over her, ignoring her for dead and she began to chant the Warden's motto. “In War, Victory...” she paused, her breath ragged as she called to her magic, still strong in spite of her injuries. “In Peace, Vigilance... In Death, Sacrifice!” She lifted her arm releasing the lightning in a bolt into the dragon's gut as it jumped toward Evelyn.

Evelyn flinched, ducking as the dragon was thrown off course and rolled over her in mid air. It crashed down behind her and Hawke cursed as she felt the already splintered ground shaking with the force of it's massive body. The cracks in the stone turned to fissures and Hawke turned to flee as the dragon scrambled for purchase before righting itself and flying off. She glanced behind her, seeing Stroud hanging from the edge. Evelyn groaned audibly and turned back as the ground crumbled beneath her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the bridge, but it was hopeless. The ground gave way and they were falling, all of them. A flash of green lit up the air and Hawke felt the sensation of falling when she closed her eyes before she was flipped upside down and landed much more softly than she was expecting. When she opened her eyes, a wave of fear washed over her and she scrambled backwards as Evelyn careened past her, falling up. Hawke watched in awe as the Inquisitor stopped short of the ground above Hawke's head and reached out a finger that only barely brushed the surface before she was deposited into a heap. Grunting, Evelyn stood and looked around, Hawke tentatively getting to her feet as well. Everything was damp, compared to the dry sandy ground of the desert outside Adamant. Nothing looked real, as if it were constructed in a dream and then set in the waking world not quite right. All around, the rest of their little group started getting to their feet. Stroud's voice drew her attention to the side. He was standing _upside down_ on a rock above Evelyn's head, oriented slightly less diagonally than Hawke. “Where are we?”

“We... We were falling...” Hawke clutched her head momentarily and then sighed as Evelyn spun to look up at her. “If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom.”

“No no no no no no! This is the Fade, b-b-but. I'm stuck! I can't... why can't I...?” Cole ran in confused circles, his body jerking as if he were trying to work some sort of magic but couldn't. He stopped and shot Evelyn a frightened look. “This place is wrong! I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I-I know it wasn't like this!”

“It's not how I remember the Fade, either,” Hawke said turning to pace on her small rock.

“The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me. Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one's dream,” Dorian offered up, his tone giddy as if this whole experience was a wet dream. Normally, Hawke would be right there beside him, eager to explore, but she had so much more at stake than she ever had before. Her thoughts rushed to Bianca's smiling face and the feel of Anders' mouth on hers and she lifted her fingertips to her mouth, hugging herself.

“The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven,” Hawke said. “Was it like this?”

Evelyn shrugged looking completely confused. “I don't know. I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this.”

“Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now,” Hawke sighed, her hand not far from her staff. “That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others.”

“Ohhh, this is shitty,” Bull groaned. “I'll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town.”

“In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby, in the main hall,” Stroud pointed out. "Can we escape the same way?”

Evelyn looked around, her eyes landing on the swirling vortex which must be the Fade representation of the Breach and sighed. Hawke needed to right herself. Being upside down was making her head hurt. She jumped upwards and her stomach flipped as the weird gravity took hold of her and flipped her around. She righted herself, landing with one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, her fingertips hitting the ground to maintain her balance. She was certainly much more graceful than Stroud who landed in a grunting heap when he attempted to do the same. She brushed herself off and Evelyn spoke. “It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” She pointed in what Hawke was convinced was just a random direction she had picked off the top of her head and continued. “There, let's go.”

As they started forward, Cole began muttering to himself. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wringing me out. Wrought right and rigid. Can't relax. Can't release...”

“Hey, stay with us, little guy. Don't do anything weird...er,” Bull said nervously.

“Its all right, Cole. We'll get you out of here soon,” Evelyn assured him with an optimism that Hawke could not bring herself to share.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “It should be like home. It's not. This isn't me. Not this part.”

They didn't make it far before Evelyn crested a set of stairs and her jaw dropped. “By the Maker, could that be...?” Stroud stopped in his tracks as Evelyn backed up a few feet in what looked like shock.

Standing before them was Divine Justinia. As far as Hawke knew, the woman had died in the explosion that had created the breach. “I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion...” Justinia said with a warm smile. Her white Chantry robes weren't even dirty. Hawke did not appreciate that whatever this thing was it had decided to single her out.

“Divine Justinia...” Evelyn gasped, her eyes wide. She shook her head. “Back at Haven I saw... I thought I saw... How can you be here?”

“I fear the Divine is indeed dead. It is likely we face a spirit... or a demon,” Stroud said warily.

“You think my survival impossible,” Justinia scoffed. “Yet here you stand, alive, in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have.”

“Really?” Hawke asked snidely, crossing her arms. “How hard is it to answer one question. I'm a human, and you are...?”

“I am here to help you,” Justinia said simply. “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of sacred ashes, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn frowned. “The _real_ Divine would have no way of knowing that I'd been made Inquisitor.” _Good catch, Evelyn._

“I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? It's work.”

“I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren,” Stroud stepped a little closer to the Divine.

“You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is it's lair,” Justinia explained.

“The big demon Erimond was trying to bring through?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes,” Justinia confirmed.

“It's nearby?” she cocked her head.

“Yes,” Justinia said again.

“Well, shit.”

Hawke nearly chuckled as Justinia ignored the outburst and continued. “When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it. These are your memories, Inquisitor.” She held out an arm to the right, where four wraith like creatures hovered harmlessly nearby. As soon as Evelyn's eyes fell on the nearest one, it floated just a bit higher and a puff of energy burst from it, to smack into the barrier she had surrounded herself with.

Cole reacted, throwing a knife at the attacker. When it fell, it left behind a small ball of green energy. Evelyn's marked hand jerked toward the energy and connected to it like Hawke had seen it do with rifts. Her face scrunched in discomfort and she lashed out, her staff slamming to the ground. The other three wraiths fell to the lightning and her arm dragged her to each, lapping up her forgotten memories. Hawke felt a sudden lash of pain between her temples as a flashing of images coalesced into a loop of memories that weren't hers. She felt the story play out as if she were in Evelyn's shoes with her memories.

_They were in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Conclave chamber. A dozen Warden mages stood around, their hands extended, holding the Divine in a magical shackle, dangling her in the air. Corypheus approached, a grin on his face and an orb in his palm, glowing green. “Now is the hour of our victory!” he said triumphantly._

“ _Why are you doing this? You of all people?” Justinia begged the Wardens for answers, her voice small and pleading._

“ _Keep the sacrifice still,” Corypheus ordered. He held the orb before Justinia and she wriggled in her bindings, her expression distraught._

“ _Someone, help me!” the Divine cried and the door flew open._

“ _What's going on here?” Evelyn demanded, rushing into the room._

_When Corypheus turned his head to see who had disturbed them, Justinia quickly took the advantage and wrenched her arm to slap the orb from his hand. It fell to the floor and rolled toward Evelyn who reached down and grabbed it from the ground. As soon as it touched her palm, agony laced through her and she tried to drop it, but she couldn't. It was as if it were fused to her arm. Corypheus cried out in anger and rushed her, but the energy had to go somewhere. It exploded outward, knocking him and Evelyn to the ground._

The vision was over and Hawke found herself bent double, her palms on her knees. Dorian was at Evelyn's side, looking a bit green himself. He helped her stay upright and the others seemed to need to recover as well. Hawke was glad to know she wasn't the only one who had shared the vision. Stroud was the first to break the silence. “So your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual.”

“Corypheus intended to rip open the veil,” the Divine said softly. “use the anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the black city. Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the anchor upon you instead.”

Hawke didn't know whether Evelyn had believed all of the Herald business that all of Thedas seemed to be throwing around about her, but Hawke read her expression as mild disappointment as she rubbed at her palm. “So this was, what, an accident? A random ricochet in the middle of a fight?”

“And if it was?” the Divine asked.

“If it was, then neither the Maker nor Andraste were in any way involved in this! I'm just...”

“If you believe in the Maker, then you believe he made this world and everything in it, including your accident. And if you do not, then nothing has changed... You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead.”

Hawke felt her own face go sour as the Divine disappeared. “Something troubles you, Hawke?” Stroud asked.

“I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision...” she spat angrily. “Their actions led to her death.”

“I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before,” Stroud said calmly. “Come, we can argue after we escape this dark place.”

“Oh, I intend to,” she said, uncrossing her arms, ready to go. She wanted out of this pit. With a pat from Dorian, Evelyn nodded and followed. As they walked, Hawke wondered aloud, trying to press the thoughts of her husband and daughter from her mind, “Do you believe it was really her? The Divine, I mean?”

“Well I have no idea,” Dorian said quizzically. “If it's a spirit, it's not acting like one. No demon would have been so helpful without asking something in return.”

“That's great and all, but the Nightmare's the thing currently scaring the shit outta me,” Bull grumped.

“It's nothing like me,” Cole insisted as if he were convincing himself. “I make people forget to help them. It eats their fears. I-I don't know if I could do that, but I don't. I don't want to. That's not me.”

Water dripped from the heights in waterfalls that sprouted from nowhere, pooling in the uneven surface of the ground. They circled a cliff face, went down a set of stairs, only to be at the bottom of another set. They followed it up, over a strange sort of battlement and to another set that went down into a courtyard full of water. There were demons congregated ahead and as they descended the stairway, a voice boomed inside her head. From the looks on everyone's faces, it was talking to all of them. “Ah! We have a visitor. Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders.” The demons attacked and as they fought, it continued to taunt. “You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think the pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is _me_. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.” It was apparently addressing Evelyn and Hawke tried her best to tune it out as she fought.

When the demons were dead, Bull chuckled. “Guess this Nightmare wasn't such hot shit after all.”

“These are just his servants, I imagine,” Stroud corrected.

“Just let me have this moment to hope, all right?” Bull muttered.

Up and down more staircases. Hawke was starting to be reminded of the adventures she was used to in Kirkwall when they would endlessly climb Sundermount for one reason or another. Suddenly, spiders the size of Mabari puppies dropped from the air on webs connected to nothing above. Dorian shouted a warning as Hawke's skin crawled, “Careful! I'm guessing those aren't friendly either.”

Once the spiders were dead, the Nightmare began to taunt them again. “Perhaps _I_ should be afraid. Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” It laughed deviously. “The Qunari will make a lovey host for one of my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Bull grunted, hefting his hammer further onto his shoulder. His one eye was whirling in every direction, making certain nothing was coming after them.

“Are you afraid, Cole? I can help you forget, just like you help other people. We're so very much alike, you and I...”

“No...” Cole said simply, his eyes darting much like Bull's.

“Greetings, Dorian... It _is_ Dorian isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”

Dorian's hand clasped Evelyn's, making Hawke realize that Dorian was Evelyn's Varric, as he cooly retorted. “Rather uncalled for.”

The Nightmare laughed in glee before moving on to Hawke. “Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God? Anders is going to die. Just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.”

“Well, that's going to grow tiresome quickly,” she said breathily, rolling her shoulders as more spiders appeared from above. The lump in her throat was growing.

Cole mumbled after the spiders fell. “Small fears, too small to shape the Fade themselves. Clinging to the Nightmare. Feeding on the bits it leaves behind.”

“And _of course_ , they look like giant spiders,” Hawke said sarcastically, brushing off some goop from the front of her armor.

“You saw spiders?” Bull asked belligerently. “Man, spiders would have been a massive improvement from what I saw.”

“They want your fear, so they look how you feel,” Cole said gently.

“Well, now I feel better,” Bull rolled his eye.

In the next chamber, they met with the Divine again and she pointed them to a barrier that was barring them from moving forward. More of the memory wraiths hovered around. They made short work of them and again, Evelyn's memories became hers, dragging them through the agonizing muck.

“ _This is the Breach back in Haven,” Evelyn narrated as she recognized the setting. “That's how we... how_ I _escaped.”_

_She was climbing an impossibly tall staircase, the pitch forcing her to her hands and knees so she wouldn't slip. Her energy was sapped, but still she climbed. Above, Justinia reached out to her. “The Demons!” she shouted, warning Evelyn that the things chasing her were gaining. Sweat dripped down her face as she climbed. When she got high enough, she reached out and took Justinia's hand with her newly marked one. It screamed as it flared against the bright green light of the rift before her. She dragged herself to her feet and started to run, Justinia on her heels._

_It felt like they were getting nowhere. “Keep running,” Evelyn urged the Divine. The elderly woman in her long heavy robes was having difficulty keeping up._

_Evelyn heard her cry out and spun to help. The demons played tug of war until Justinia patted her hand and said, “Go!” The divine was torn from her grasp and Evelyn had no time to react. She turned and ran, finally making it to the rift and out._

“It was you,” Evelyn sighed and Hawke found herself rubbing her own hand as the residual pain of Evelyn's memories faded. “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you... she died.”

“Yes,” Justinia said, her expression sad.

“So this creature is simply a spirit,” Stroud said, his tone matching the Divine's expression.

“You don't say,” Hawke mocked.

“I am sorry if I disappoint you.” Hawke felt bad as the spirit turned to her and she reigned in her anger.

The spirit began to glow bright and yellow as she shed her disguise, the blinding light almost too much. After adjusting her eyes, she was still unable to look directly at her. “Are you... her?” Evelyn asked softly, her tone hopeful. “Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?”

She spoke, still with the Divine's gentle voice. “If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one.”

“What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens,” Hawke accused, the well ingrained bitterness against the Wardens resurfacing.

“As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus... We can discuss this further, once we return to Adamant,” Stroud argued.

“Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone!” Hawke all but shouted. They had been here too long.

“How dare you judge us!” Stroud shouted angrily. “You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

“To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic!” They were right in each other's faces now, snarling. Hawke was so terrified that she didn't remember moving. “But you'd ignore that, because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens... even if that's what we need!”

“The blood sings softly. It never stops, and then its all they hear. We can't let them hurt more people,” Cole worried, twisting Hawke's insides with thoughts of the struggle awaiting Anders in the future.

“Don't know that we can pass judgment on the only folks who know how to stop the Blights,” Bull disagreed.

Dorian nodded. “They might still be useful. What if Corypheus conjures another Blight? You never know.”

Before Hawke could argue again, Evelyn moved to jump down their throats. “Sweet Maker, could both of you please shut up! We can argue once we've escaped from the giant fear demon!”

Both Stroud and Hawke's brows shot up as the usually even tempered woman shouted at them. Hawke noticed more spiders approaching and sense reasserted itself. She tipped her chin toward the threat. “Inquisitor!”

Evelyn spun and her eyes widened, her staff flying into her hands. “The Nightmare has found us!” the spirit called, rising up to continue to the next barrier.

“Form up!” Stroud said, drawing his sword and shield.

Hawke twirled her staff and grinned. “I'm with you.”

After the spiders died, Hawke buttoned her mouth and decided that bickering with Stroud was pointless. It wouldn't get them out any sooner. The Nightmare tried to taunt Stroud, but he was not listening. They followed the trail of the spirit and she brought down the final barrier that kept them trapped while they fought off the demons that attacked. “You must get through the rift, Inquisitor! Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons... and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

Evelyn was practically running now. “The rift!” Hawke shouted in relief as it appeared around a bend. Her legs pumped, pushing her toward freedom. “We're almost there!”

“Don't say it like that!” Bull begged. “That _guarantees_ another demon is gonna show up!”

Bull wasn't wrong. As they rounded a blind corner, Hawke stopped dead in her tracks and stared up in shock at the Nightmare itself. It was easily the size of six dragons and to her it looked like the biggest spider you had ever laid eyes on. It's hundreds of eyes wiggled around inside slimy skin. Tentacles dribbled between its pincers, saliva falling like a cascade from the tips. In staring at the monstrosity, she nearly missed the man sized avatar that floated before them. It was dressed from head to foot in tattered robes, six spidery legs sprouted from it's spine and it had two human arms and legs. It's face was non existent, replaced with a featureless shape like a squid with tentacles dangling from its jowls. Evelyn stepped back as the spirit glided past her on the wind. “If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry. I failed you, too'.”

The spirit's energy over flowed, sparking to toss the avatar to the side so she could explode in a blast of heavenly bright light and stun the Nightmare. While it was stunned, the avatar attacked them. It flickered in and out of existence like a dream, making pinning it down extremely difficult. Evelyn took to setting glyph traps all over. While Evelyn tried to get the avatar down, they were attacked by several other minions. Hawke recognized a terror demon as it lumbered toward her on long thin legs. She backed away from it, unprepared for the assault of fear that it twisted inside her. Visions of Bianca twisted and bloodied, a wrathful Justice burning out Anders for good as he hunted down the horrors responsible. She nearly dropped her staff as the demon got close enough to her panicking frozen body to swipe at her with it's claws. Just in time, Bull knocked her out of the way and smashed the demon across the space with his hammer. As she fell down the short incline, she landed wrong, the wind knocked out of her as a few of her ribs cracked. When Bull had finished with the demon, he helped her to her feet and they stood back to back, protecting each other as the battle continued.

Eventually as it flicked back and forth around them, the avatar hit enough of Evelyn's glyphs that it fell to the ground and disappeared. She shoved her friends toward the rift and ran after them. Hawke followed, Stroud beside her. When she faltered with the throbbing pain of her broken ribs, he fell behind to help her. Evelyn stopped to turn and urge them onward. They stopped dead, Hawke feeling her eyes widening as the Nightmare bore down on Evelyn. Their expressions made her jerk out of the way and roll toward them, just in time for one of the Nightmare's tentacles to slap the ground with a squish exactly where she had been standing.

“We need to clear a path!” Stroud shouted over the noise of the demon.

With the Wardens in disarray and Evelyn the only one with any hope of finding a way to defeat Corypheus for good, Hawke felt her heart sink with a dreaded realization. For some reason, words from what felt like another life slipped across Hawke's memory. Flemeth had told her... _Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap_. At the time, she had scoffed, but now it made sense. “Go! I'll cover you!” she offered in a shaky voice, her staff already spinning as she bravely swallowed the terror of fighting this thing alone. She would die trying to save this world if it meant Evelyn would succeed. Without her mark, it was hopeless. Somewhere along the line, Hawke's fight had become Evelyn's.

“No. You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must...” Stroud began.

“A Warden must help them rebuild. That's _your_ job. Corypheus is mine.” Hawke growled.

They both looked to Evelyn and her eyes darted from one to the other. There was no time someone needed to choose. “Stroud,” she choked softly.

“Inquisitor, it has been an honor,” Stroud said boldly and pushed the two of them toward the rift. He ran off toward the seeping mouth of the Nightmare before Hawke could sacrifice herself and shouted. “For the Wardens!”

Hawke grabbed Evelyn who was shaken from the decision she had just made. Hawke was grateful, her heart thudding wildly with the hope that she just might live to see her family again, but they needed to move. Hawke stepped through the rift, falling a few feet to the ground and losing hold on Evelyn's arm as her leg twisted beneath her. Evelyn landed on her hands and knees. All around, Inquisition and Wardens fought the demons that seemed to be everywhere. Hawke painstakingly rolled out of the way as Evelyn stood and balled her fist, the rift audibly slamming closed behind her. The demons that the soldiers were fighting all simply fell to the ground, their earthly bodies disintegrating and melting into the stone of the bailey. Cheers erupted all around and Hawke dragged herself to her feet, clutching her side. Evelyn was dumbstruck, looking down at her own palms as if there were blood all over them. Hawke stood before her, a bitter smile on her face at having survived. She was both extremely thankful and guilty. “She was right," she said about the spirit. "Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army.” She sighed, dragging her mask into place. “Though as far as they're all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker.”

“ _They_ came out of this alive. As far as I'm concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like,” Evelyn choked, flinching.

“That's how legends get started,” Hawke warned, having been the focus of her own legend. “Or at least that's what Varric always says.”

A scout ran toward them and breathlessly gave a report. “Inquisitor. The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori Magister is unconscious, but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.” At the mention of Cullen, Evelyn sagged. “As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons.”

One of the Warden warriors sidled up beside the scout and glanced around. “We stand ready to help make up for Clarel's tragic mistake,” he said, a fist over his heart, saluting Evelyn. “Where is Stroud?”

Evelyn dropped her eyes and swallowed when she glanced at Hawke who felt her pasted on smile fading. “Warden Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight.” She drew herself taller and pitched her voice higher. “We will honor his sacrifice, and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens, even as Corypheus and his servants tried to destroy you all from within.”

A hush fell over the space and the Wardens all glanced at each other. “Inquisitor, we have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?”

After sighing, she made a shocking decision. Hawke would likely have gone the other direction if faced with the question. “You stay and do whatever you can to help. Stroud died for the ideals of the Wardens. In War, Victory. And we are still at war. Do you believe the Wardens can still help?”

“I do, your worship,” the man said eagerly.

“You're still vulnerable to Corypheus and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

“But they hurt people,” Cole whispered in protest, Hawke silently agreeing.

Hawke nodded. “While they do that, I'll inform the Wardens at Weisshaupt what's happened. Best they not get caught off guard.” She needed to find Solona, or at least get in touch with her. First, she was going home.

Evelyn nodded her agreement and the Warden who had spoken on behalf of them all said again, “Thank you, your worship. We will not fail you.”

Hawke grinned. “Good luck with your Inquisition. Try not to start an Exalted March on anything. And take care of Varric for me.”

Hawke limped away, her ribs shooting hot pain through her side. She really wished she had Anders there to patch her up. When she was out of the way, she hunted down a healer and gratefully accepted the potion. As the bitter elfroot worked to mend the cracks in her bones, she breathed heavily, feeling every single scrape of bone against bone. Varric approached her, concern painting every inch of his face as he took note of her pinched expression and the glass bottle clutched in her palm. "Bet you wish you'd brought Blondie," he said, sitting down beside her. "I could get Aurora or Sparkler to help with that..."

She shook her head, wiping the pain from her face and offering him a smile. "There are others who need it more than me. Once the worst is over, I can do the rest myself." She ran her tongue around inside her mouth, gathering the taste up in a wad and spitting it out before tossing the empty bottle aside. "I would rather give birth again than have to taste that bloody awful stuff."

He chuckled and fished in his jacket. "Want to wash it down?" he asked, offering her his flask.

She took a grateful sip and nearly choked. "What in the Maker's name is that?"

He shrugged. "Tiny gave me a few shots from his private stash."

"Well I'm fairly certain I just burned a hole in my throat..."

Varric looked down at his hands before accepting the flash back. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

She sighed. "We just fought a Nightmare demon... the things I saw while it rooted around in my head... I need to go home, Varric. I did what I came to do. I don't know any thing more about fighting Corypheus or how to kill him. This... isn't my fight anymore."

He seemed to accept her decision and took a swig of the flask himself before tucking it away again. "You make sure you give that little girl an extra tight hug from her uncle Varric. If I survive this mess, I'll come by and meet her."

"I'm holding you to that," Hawke said with a smile.

 

Leaving Varric was no easier than the first time, but she had done so knowing that she at least had something to head towards this time. Evelyn gladly allowed her to take Neighsayer as a gift for all of her help. The first morning after leaving, Hawke had written Solona a letter, as well as the First Warden in Weisshaupt. Now, almost a month later, she was hastily trotting Neighsayer through Honnleath village on the way toward her home. She was elated to be back, her heart hammering in her chest.

At the sound of hoofbeats approaching, the door flew open and Anders rushed out, staff in hand, a mix of emotions swirling around him and his magic flaring. She hopped from her horse, and ran into his outstretched arms as he dropped his staff. He picked her up, twirling them around, his arms so tight around her that she could barely breathe. "You came back," he sighed, almost in awe as he set her back down.

"I promised I would," she breathed, her face burying in his neck as she returned the tight and familiar embrace. He gently pulled away, his hands cupping her face and studying her, his magic lightly caressing over her skin. "I'm fine, I promise." she said with a giggle.

"Bianca! It's all right. Come on out, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder and then returned his gaze to Hawke as if he thought he might be dreaming.

Hawke dragged her eyes from him as Bianca poked her head out the door before stepping carefully off the stoop and running toward them. "Mama!" she cried.

Hawke knelt and opened her arms, the streak of red hair rushing into her embrace. She picked her daughter up, snuggling her against her chest and peppering her face with kisses. "I missed you so much, Firefly." Bianca squealed with laughter as Hawke plopped her back down and pulled the stuffed animal from her belt. She had given it a good wash a week ago, making sure it didn't have any blood or Fade goop left on it. "I brought Puff back to you."

Bianca took the toy from Hawke and inspected it thoroughly before giving it the toddler stamp of approval and hugging it to her chest. "Thank you," she said sweetly.

"Thank _you_ for letting me borrow him. He did such a good job of protecting me while I was gone that I think he deserves a treat. Why don't you go in and make him some of that wonderful tea you always make for me and daddy?" Hawke said sweetly, running a hand through Bianca's hair before pulling her closer again to kiss the top of her head.

The little girl nodded and ran inside to her little wooden tea set shouting, "I'll make you some too!"

Hawke stood up and fell into Anders' arms again. "You were gone for so long... I didn't know what to think. We hadn't gotten any news except what you hear around town." he said softly, wrapping one arm behind her, his hand cupping her head and the other around her waist.

"I tried writing so many times, but I could never think of what to say," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Months, Hawke," he scolded. "You missed her birthday."

"I know," she said cringing. "I ran out of parchment in the desert..." It was a terrible excuse, but it was the truth. After all of her failed attempts, she had run out of things to write on a week before Bianca's birthday and she had been three weeks away from any sign of human life.

"So?" he asked, reluctantly pulling away to look into her eyes. "What happened? The Calling... it's lessened."

She smiled and reached up to caress her fingertips along his jaw. "Let me get Neighsayer settled and we'll go inside for some 'tea'. I'll explain everything, but with much less detail than I will once Bianca goes to bed."

He nodded, his eyes studying her once more before his brows knitted together. "You did not name that poor beast 'Neighsayer'..."

She grinned. "I have it on good authority that he very much likes his name." Anders groaned and pulled her in for one last kiss to the forehead before heading for the house.

"I'm going to make sure she's not really trying to make tea..."

Hawke chuckled and moved to gather Neighsayer's abandoned reigns and lead him over to the pasture beside their house. She removed his bit and bridle before the saddle and then patted him down. "I'll bring you out some carrots and brush you down after I take a trip into town a little later. For now, there is all the grass you can eat... or roll in," she said.

Neighsayer nudged her with his nose before taking off to drop into a patch of grass and roll around happily, turning his black hair a dusty gray. Hawke shook her head and headed for the house. She was immediately greeted by an excited Alfie who bounced and barked in the doorway, barely letting her inside. "Alf! No!" Bianca demanded, strutting importantly up beside the dog. He responded immediately, sitting down to the side and allowing Hawke to close the door behind her before she knelt to scratch up and down his body, his entire hind quarters wiggling. She was rewarded for her nearness to the ground by the weight of a cat landing on her back and climbing up to sniff her face.

She stood carefully, Pounce keeping his balance easily. Anders was shuffling around in the kitchen, and Bianca lifted her hands to Hawke with an empty toy teacup in her palms. "Why thank you," Hawke smiled, accepting the 'tea' and taking a sip. "Just as delicious as I remember."

Anders called over his shoulder. "Sweetheart, your mother's had a long journey. Let's give her a chance to relax..."

"It's okay," Hawke corrected him, bending to pick up Bianca and straddle her on her hip as she crossed the room. "I want to hear about everything I missed."

 

They sat up late into the evening, listening to Bianca rattle off every little thing that had happened since Hawke had left, never leaving her mother's lap. Finally after the sun had been down for a few hours, Bianca's mouth began to slow and her head drooped onto Hawke's chest. Hawke gingerly stood and carried the exhausted toddler to her room, setting her down in her bed and fluttering a kiss onto her head before setting her dragon beside her and covering her with a blanket.

She backed quietly from the room and closed the door behind her. She stepped directly into Anders' arms and he gripped her tightly, backing her less than gently against the hall wall. She gasped as her breath caught in her throat and a wave of arousal tugged at her down below when he dove at her neck with eager nips of this teeth in all of the right places. She managed a choked chuckle as he worried at her collarbone. "I thought you wanted to hear all about what happened."

Her chest heaved as he pulled away from her to lay a devilish smirk on her before reaching around her back to squeeze her rear, his head dipping for her neck again. "Shut up," he growled teasingly in her ear before yanking her up into his arms and directing them to the bedroom.

After catching up in the best possible way, she laid nestled in the warmth of his arms, glad to be back in her own comfortable bed. "So you're... feeling better?" she led, wondering about the false Calling. The spirit in the Fade had said that it had been caused by the Nightmare demon. With it banished, the Calling should have gone with it.

"It was... distracting for a time, but a few weeks ago, the Calling simply vanished," he explained. "I assume you did something heroic... Is Corypheus gone?"

Hawke shook her head against his chest. "The Wardens panicked when every last one of them started to hear the Calling at once. They gathered in Adamant Fortress with a bit of nudging from one of Corypheus' allies. The mages were slitting the throats of their allies to bind demons in some harebrained scheme to build an army to assault the Deep Roads in one last attempt to counteract the Blight." Anders flinched at the mention of the ritual, but allowed her to continue. "I went with the Inquisition to put a stop to it. One thing led to another and the Inquisitor and everyone in the immediate vicinity of the crumbling bridge fell into the abyss. Evelyn used her mark to open a rift under us and we landed, physically, in the Fade. Zero out of ten. I don't recommend it as a vacation spot... We ran into a spirit that looked like the Divine and she helped us find the demon that was truly responsible for the false Calling. It was... big... I almost..." she sighed and he squeezed her tighter to his side. "Evelyn saved my life, choosing me over Stroud. He stayed behind to cover our backs while we escaped through the rift..."

He was silent for a time, simply holding her against him and then he sighed. "I need to send the Inquisitor a fruit basket."

"A hundred fruit baskets," Hawke amended. "I feel like we should be pledging our firstborn to her cause... Oh, Cullen would be so pissed." She chuckled then sobered. "There were so many more logical reasons that she should have saved Stroud..."

"But she chose you, love. Don't let her decision weigh on you. I'm more than grateful that she did..." he said, turning his face to kiss the top of her head. A few more moments of silence enveloped them before he said, "Amell... was she...?"

"I didn't see her. I know she never would have stood for what was happening. Wherever she is, she's not involved in this madness," Hawke assured him. "I sent her a letter after we escaped the Fade. I hope Baron Plucky can find her. Leliana insists he is her best Raven. I also wrote the First Warden to warn him about everything."

"So, you sent Leliana's _best_ raven after Amell and not to the First Warden?" Anders asked with a chuckle.

"Of course... I sent him the pecky one..."

Anders laughed out loud. "Maker, I love you more and more every day."

 

Baron Plucky came through, returning to Hawke after several weeks with a letter attached to his leg.

_To my three favorite people,_

_I was so glad to hear from you after all of this time. It's wonderful to know that Bianca is growing well. She was bound to be smart with you two for parents. Your letter arrived with a second raven from another old friend. It seems I am drastically out of the loop, but it couldn't be avoided. I've been working secretly for years on a way to purge a Warden of the Blight. Some time ago, Alistair and I received a lead that could not be ignored, so I left to investigate. My travels have taken me out of the area where the supposed magister is operating, and while I encountered challenges of my own, they have not involved any weakness related to my Grey Warden abilities. I appreciate your warning, however and will take it under advisement. Kiss Bianca for me._

_All my love,_

_Solona_

 

Hawke breathed a sigh of relief to hear that her cousin was safe. She glanced out the window at the swirling Breach in the sky and wondered with the progress that Varric was reporting if they shouldn't pack up their things and move back to Kirkwall and put some distance between them and the nasty rip in the veil. It seemed more and more like it was coming down to a one on one battle between Evelyn and Corypheus as she knocked more of his pawns from the board.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind that a great rumbling pop issued from the Breach and the usually calm swirl of green ripped open again. "Shit!" Hawke cursed, turning to see Bianca sitting beside Alfie on the living room rug, both of them looking toward the window, heads tipped. Anders was in town, still working in the clinic. Hawke surveyed the state of things, hoping that it didn't start to rain demons like it had the last time. Her hopes were dashed when the first shade slithered out of the tree line. She grabbed up her staff and picked up Bianca. "Listen to me very carefully, Firefly. We need to get to daddy, but there are a lot of bad things between us and him. You need to keep your head down and do exactly as I say. Can you do that?"

Bianca absorbed her words and slowly nodded. Hawke called Alfie to her side and left the house, immediately heading toward the village. She hurried along, trying to avoid being seen by any of the demons that seemed to be multiplying. Miraculously, she made it to the center of the village just as Anders stepped from his clinic, staff in hand. She nearly shouted aloud when a rage demon bore down on him, but he was ready, spearing it with a winter's grasp spell. "Marian!" a familiar voice shouted and she spun to see Amalia waving as she ran toward her. She looked back around and more demons were surrounding Anders. As Amalia reached her, she shifted Bianca and passed her to the young mage. "Father has a magical bunker in the basement. We should hurry."

"Take Bianca and Alfie. I'll be along as quickly as I can," she hustled Amalia back toward the seemingly clear path to the mayor's house, Bianca's arms reaching over Amalia's shoulder toward her.

As soon as the girl took off, she spun to rush toward the amassing demons. Anders cast a mind blast to spread the group out from his personal space and she waded in, snatching more of them away from him with her spirit arms. "Hawke! What are you doing? Where's Bianca?" he shouted, whirling to slam the head of his staff into a floating demon of despair before it could throw ice at him.

She cast a fireball, chasing off the demon and stepped closer, clearing herself a path to his side. "She's safe. Amalia took her to her father's bunker."

"What happened to the Breach?" he wondered as they fought back to back to stem the tide of demons.

"Probably Corypheus throwing a tantrum because Evelyn keeps beating him at his own game," Hawke surmised.

"Let's hope she's ready to do it again," Anders grunted as he knocked back another wave of demons and erected an ice wall to keep them at bay. He grabbed her hand and took off toward the hill where the mayor's house stood.

Once they were inside, Matthias sealed the barrier around the bunker and Hawke took Bianca back from Amalia for a split second before Anders took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, Pounce showing his face from amidst Anders' cloak. They spent hours huddled with more than half the town. Hawke lost track of exactly how long it had been, but when she heard another electric pop, she jerked to her feet. "I'll go have a look," Matthias offered, lowering the barrier so he could leave. He returned in minutes and the barrier fell completely. "You need to come see this."

They left the basement, Bianca clutched protectively in her father's arms, and Hawke immediately looked up to where the Breach had hung for over a year. "Sweet Maker..." she gasped.

Where the fluffy green and almost perfectly round vortex had hung, there was now naught but a slash of green light across the sky, the rest of it the normal blue that the sky should be. "She did it," Anders mused softly.

"I hope they're all okay," Hawke said in her own whispered tone.

He reached out his free arm and encircled her waist. "Let's give it a few days... I'm sure someone will send some news."

Sure enough, less than a week later, a letter arrived from Varric. Corypheus was dead, the Breach closed for good and some semblance of normalcy was being restored to Thedas. Hawke could scarcely believe it. Now all that was left was to figure out what the future held for her and her little family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with Hawke. I hope you guys enjoyed my embellishments to her story.


End file.
